Living Each Day Like You're Already Dead de Atreyu

Raise up the ghosts of the dead
I won't die like them
Push past the point of raw emotion
I will breathe
Exist with a broken spirit
I will die complete
Ignore what the angels say
Enjoy that special place where the demons speak to me
I won't pick out the lining of my coffin yet unless I am sure that color satin is me
Better yet go with crushed velvet, that way I'll be damn sure to enjoy eternity
My daily life writes the eulogy, engraved on tombstone diaries,
Laid to rest with the passing of time
Seems to me that even love can die
And the rituals, that fade away, and the roses that cease to be laid
And to me it clearly appears that we're already one foot in a very shallow grave

I will love with passion
You live like you're dead
I will love with passion
You live like you're dead
I will love with passion

As each day dies, are we living on to the next or passing on in the twilight