Soon I'll be dead, I'll lay in my bed,
I've made in my years, I won't shed a tear.

We're all guilty anyways, the dumb games we all play,
All tarnished and scarred, when did life get so hard?
We'll drink to aulde lang syne with fortified wine,
We'll drink to tymes olde from pitchers of gold.

Soon we'll be dead, to death we'll be wed,
We'll slip on the ring, it ain't a big thing.

And though you might curse "thee", we're angels of mercy,
And sometimes we fall; ya can't win them all. (No I can't.)
I'll pass out at dawn and dream of friends gone
As the morbid embrace warms over my face.

And soon we'll be dead, our brains in our heads,
They've always forgotten when life gets so rotten.

Soon we'll be dead, and I'll lay in my bed,
I've made in my years, I won't shed a tear.

Soon we'll be dead, I'll lay in our bed,
I've made in my years, we won't shed a tear.
And soon we'll be dead, our brains in our heads,
They've always forgotten, when life gets so rotten. Yeah.

Our lives in our hands.