Thorns On My Grave

I hereby commit my body to the ground
Sterilised and wrapped in plastic foil
Being an object of this space and time
This body should remain concealed...

For it holds every disease 
Ever exposed
It holds all pain and death
I could ever unleash

Beneath deceiving, fragile skin
Breathes the ever growing hate within

Since the first glimpse of my existence
I have fed this greedy infection

An aimless search for potential persistence
Found no escape from the fatal injection of life

For it holds every disease 
Ever exposed
It holds all pain and death
I could ever unleash

Beneath deceiving, fragile skin
Breathes the ever growing hate within

I am the Father

I am the Son
My refugee soul has escaped
This body depraved

Of final wishes I ask none
But one
Now that I am gone
Lay thorns on my grave!