Kevorkian Times

Sometimes the skies are darker Than clouds that drift ahead He saw his final star tonight Too weak to flee or fight Only beneath the ground can he shine Now, you are mine Within his heart, there's no reply These are Kevorkian times Renderings of what might have been A certain smell in the attic The branch he swung from, from a child Same tree, he now will feed He learnt of snow and Golgotha Small freedom, marked by chimes Sky was the limit from these walls Damned Kevorkian times I pledged that I no longer will The aspen leaves adhere Bow to darkness Heed the words, you were never here These are Kevorkian times (These are Kevorkian times)