A heart like lion, a burning like fire; Waiting just to be set free. A heart like a lion, a burning like fire; How can I bear captivity.
Some they tell me I’m a fool, a fool who walks this road alone. So afraid of making changes, remember that nothing is carved in stone. Oh tell me why we are so afraid of the secrets locked with in our souls? Cause Everything that we’re made of is dying just to be exposed. Oh yes.
Death, be not proud, through some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, not yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery. Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.