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)