Final Destination

My bags are packed
My clothes well worn
Destination known but not
You start dying once you're born
So when is it my turn?
As I stand with my bags packed
Waiting for the clock to turn
The wind cold against my back
Pull me in one last time
Hold me close and then let go
Let me travel onto that higher place
Let me follow down that road
'Cause time moves at it's own speed
Sometimes fast and sometimes slow
One destination traveled
One more left to go
Me, I am so tired
My life, my soul, so worn
My feet shall stay, but my soul shall fly
You start dying once you're born

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