This thought of mine had always been a funny little thing I don't know how good or bad I've been But is it measured in deeds Or the morals that grow such weeds I like to think of deeds like vines The bad ones cloud the mind While the good ones touch the soul Providing peace, a sanctuary unknown And yes, this is unknown And yes, it is out of reach When death consumes me and its all i can see And yes, I'm scared Anticipating a night where alarms blare I can hear yet i cant speak Where i know the clock has struck twelve for me Where i know its the end of my course And it eats me up inside If there's even a chance i can be revived I don't know, I'm not sure