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It's cold and dark and damp in my coffin.

I kick and bite and scratch, but it won't open.

Is this the way death's supposed to be.

Or did something from life come back to haunt me ?

Final hours, they were so good to me,

But no they 're gone and i just can't believe

That this is the way death is supposed to go.

Trapped in a coffin, but the lid is closed.

The call of the captive,

Call of the captive,

Is calling me.

I can hear the wind streak across the ground,

And i can feel the chill six feet under under thou,

I also hear the screams from caskets next to mine

For i'm a captive yet i commit no crime.

How long have i been in this box under three tons of rock.

I hear my brain decay, I feel my skin rot.

I make my voice wail,

But dead men tell no tales.

Tried every way of escape.

My fear has turned to hate.

The call of the captive,

call of the captive,

Is calling me.