The Land Increases - Sick Of It All

One is born, one dies

We’re fragile and soft

Our surroundings are harsh

Our surrondings are hostile

The world takes what it wants

Nobody’s secure

Nobody is safe

Don’t take it for granted

To see another day

Murder, accident, suicide, and disease

We’re lucky to be here

We’re lucky to live

So much is trivial

Beyond that idea

Murder, accident, suicide, and disease

The soul is sacred

It defines our being

And without the body

The force is freed

Leaving only a shell

The land increases