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Touch!
I'll stand for nothing less,
Or never stand again.
These are the limits when one's buried.
This body's left the soul.

Could we have known?
Never would I help to nail down...

Careful of drifting off
Now losing taste and touch.
Turning a pale blue leaning in to say:
"This body's left the soul."

The brain needs oxygen.
Can't sneak around this bait.
His catacomb has got me by the chin.
This body's left the soul.

Could we have known
Never would I help to nail down
With nothing to gain,
Here's the clincher: This should be you.

Now saturate!
Now saturate!
Now saturate!
Now saturate and touch!
Now saturate!
Now saturate!
Now saturate the earth!
Now saturate,
Now saturate,
Now saturate the earth!

Well could we have known
Never would I help to nail down (I'll stand for nothing less).
With nothing to gain,
Here's the clincher: This should be you (made cold and crippled).

This happened to be never changing
Holding inside (or never stand again)
The phobia viewed
Made cold and crippled, ending it all...

Now saturate!
Now saturate!
Now saturate!
Now saturate the earth!
Now saturate.
Now saturate.
Now saturate.