The Clincher

I’ll stand for nothing less,
Or never stand again,
These are the limits when one’s buried,
This body’s left the soul.
Well could we have known?
Never would I,
Have helped to nail down.
Careful I’m drifting off,
Now losing taste and touch,
Turning a pale blue leaning in to say,
This body’s left the soul.
The brain needs oxygen,
Can’t sneak around this bait,
His catacomb has got me by the chin,
This body’s left the soul.
Well could we have known?
Never would I,
Have helped to nail down.
With nothing to gain,
Here’s the clincher,
This should be you;
Now saturate,
Now saturate,
Now saturate,
Now saturate, and TOUCH!
NOW SATURATE!
NOW SATURATE!
NOW SATURATE!
THE EARTH!
NOW SATURATE!
NOW SATURATE!
NOW SATURATE!
THE EARTH!
Well could we have known?
Never would I,
Have helped to nail down.
(I'll stand for nothing less,)
With nothing to gain,
Here’s the clincher,
This should be you,
(Made cold and crippled.)
This happened to be,
Never changing,
Holding inside,
(Or never stand again,)
The phobia viewed,
Made cold and crippled,
Ending it all.
NOW SATURATE!
NOW SATURATE!
NOW SATURATE!
NOW SATURATE!
THE EARTH!
Now saturate,
Now saturate,
Now saturate.