作词 : 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