My skeleton’s skin has taken me in;
it’s told me lies, in front of my eyes.
It’s shaped my days in a thousand ways.
It’s helped me out, and without a doubt
I wouldn’t be here; it’s made that clear,
if I didn’t play ball. God forgive us all.
There’s a little white room where we
seal our doom. There’s a big black door
labeled "nevermore." We can step inside.
They’ll say that we died. And our thoughts
compiled will be stripped and filed
into reference books for both spies and crooks.
And our history will be lost at sea. Amen.