The circle of life
Is a Christmas wreathe
It's surface won't kill me
It's what's underneath

I don't want to go
Lest I'm steering the ship
With the hole in it's hull
I'll empty buckets to live

I'm counting the days
But I keep losing count
If I don't wake up
I'll have figured it out

And I had a friend
At the scene of the crime
But when I showed up
There were only chalk lines

The hard line she walks
Is there to behold
I'll keep my heart young
As this body grows old

King Midas awaits
To fondle your soul
And once it's caressed
He'll dig you a hole

There is but one debt
Ever paid in full
And that's to the man
Operating the bull