Art Of Dying
There comes a time when all of us must leave here,
When nothing Sister Mary can do will keep me here with you.
Nothing in this life that I've been trying
Can equal or surpass the art of dying.
Will you believe me?
There comes a time when all your hopes are fading,
When things that seemed so very plain
Become an awful pain
Searching for the truth amongst the lying
And answered when you've learned the art of dying.
Are you still with me?
But if you want it.
Then you must find it,
But when you have it,
There'll be no need for it.
There comes a time when most of us return here,
Brought back by our desire to be more perfect entities,
And living through a million years of trying,
Until you realize the art of dying.
Can you believe me?