A Hymn for the Ghost Man (Who Found His Place In The World and Called It Good)

wanderin through the snow with no shoes on
no clothes to speak of
i don't know where i'm going but it must be somewhere good
neglectin frostbite creeping through my veins
that's the least of my worries
i'm travelin heavenbound
on this cold, cold, "damn it's cold!" ground

i count the dead frozen neath my feet
and stagger on and suck cold air
it's a fools errand with no reward
i started twenty or so years ago
and sacrificed my heart and soul
i'm continuin heavenbound
on this cold, cold, desolate ground