Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay.

Then I'm dying at the bottom of a pit
In the blazin' sun
Torn and twisted
At the foot of a burnin' bike
And I think somebody somewhere
Must be tolling a bell

And the last thing I see
Is my heart, still beatin'
Breakin' out of my body
And flyin' away
Like a bat out of Hell