I feel as if I have been buried alive
For the best part of five hundred years
My body encased in a mountain of waste
Until one day my face reappears
**** bends with the years that it spends
In positions tormenting my soul
But now they are free to emancipate me
From the celibacy of the soul

[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/d/divine+comedy/indian+rain_20040875.html ]
So turn in your grave
Hold back the incoming rain

**** wind in my face like the linen and lace
Are surrounding **** like ****
Fresh air in my lungs **** sharing his songs
**** through the grass
New blood in my veins like Red Indian rain
Stripping us of all shame we possess
With tears in my eyes (and with anguish) I cry:
"I was free all the time, I confess!"