I feel dead and talk dead,
I think dead and walk dead;
Once again I dreamed I died,
I wasn't alone but nobody cried.
Twice I have died in my sleep,
And twice I've been shot in the head;
God says that; 'what I sow Matthew I reap!'
But, still, I wake up in bed.
Could it just be a prediction,
That oneday will come to be true?
Should I pray now for benediction,
And wait it out on a pew.
I could be wrong, it could just be a dream,
Just something dreamed up in my bed: in my head;
From watching horrors and eating too much ice-cream,
But I can't help but feel that I'm already dead.