Dunia Orang Mati 11 - Alam Barzakh - Sheol - Hades - 阴间也 - 陰間也

Dunia Orang Mati 11 - Alam Barzakh - Sheol - Hades - 阴间也 - 陰間也

Afterlife

- Avenged Sevenfold

Songwriters: BAKER, ZACHARY JAMES / SANDERS, MATTHEW CHARLES / HANER, JR., BRIAN ELWIN / SULLIVAN, JAMES OWEN

Like walking into a dream, so unlike what you've seen
So unsure but it seems, 'cause we've been waiting for you
Fallen into this place, just giving you a small taste
Of your afterlife here so stay, you'll be back here soon anyway

I see a distant light, but girl this can't be right
Such a surreal place to see so how did this come to be
Arrived too early

And when I think of all the places I just don't belong
I've come to grips with life and realize this is going too far

I don't belong here, we gotta move on dear
Escape from this afterlife
'Cause this time I'm right to move on and on
Far away from here

A place of hope and no pain, perfect skies with no rain
Can leave this place but refrain, 'cause we've been waiting for you
Fallen into this place, just giving you a small taste
Of your afterlife here so stay, you'll be back here soon anyway

This peace on earth's not right (with my back against the wall)
No pain or sign of time (I'm much too young to fall)
So out of place don't wanna stay, I feel wrong and that's my sign
I've made up my mind

Give me your hand but realize I just wanna say goodbye
Please understand I have to leave and carry on my own life

I don't belong here, I gotta move on dear
Escape from this afterlife
'Cause this time I'm right to move on and on,
Far away from here

Got nothing against you and surely I'll miss you
This place full of peace and light, and I'd hope you might
Take me back inside when the time is right

Loved ones back home all crying 'cause they're already missing me
I pray by the grace of God that there's somebody listening
Give me a chance to be that person I wanna be
(I am unbroken; I'm choking on this ecstasy)
Oh Lord I'll try so hard but you gotta let go of me
(Unbreak me, unchain me, I need another chance to live)

I don't belong here, I gotta move on dear
Escape from this afterlife
'Cause this time I'm right to move on and on,
Far away from here

Got nothing against you and surely I'll miss you
This place full of peace and light, and I'd hope you might
Take me back inside when the time is right

http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/a/avenged_sevenfold/afterlife.html

---

The Afterlife

by Billy Collins

While you are preparing for sleep, brushing your teeth,
or riffling through a magazine in bed,
the dead of the day are setting out on their journey.

They are moving off in all imaginable directions,
each according to his own private belief,
and this is the secret that silent Lazarus would not reveal:
that everyone is right, as it turns out.

You go to the place you always thought you would go,
the place you kept lit in an alcove in your head.

Some are being shot up a funnel of flashing colors
into a zone of light,...

http://www.enotes.com/afterlife/text-poem

---

Writing in the Afterlife

By Billy Collins

I imagined the atmosphere would be clear,
shot with pristine light,
not this sulphurous haze,
the air ionized as before a thunderstorm.

Many have pictured a river here,
but no one mentioned all the boats,
their benches crowded with naked passengers,
each bent over a writing tablet.

I knew I would not always be a child
with a model train and a model tunnel,
and I knew I would not live forever,
jumping all day through the hoop of myself.

I had heard about the journey to the other side
and the clink of the final coin
in the leather purse of the man holding the oar,
but how could anyone have guessed

that as soon as we arrived
we would be asked to describe this place
and to include as much detail as possible—
not just the water, he insists,

rather the oily, fathomless, rat-happy water,
not simply the shackles, but the rusty,
iron, ankle-shredding shackles—
and that our next assignment would be

to jot down, off the tops of our heads,
our thoughts and feelings about being dead,
not really an assignment,
the man rotating the oar keeps telling us—

think of it more as an exercise, he groans,
think of writing as a process,
a never-ending, infernal process,
and now the boats have become jammed together,

bow against stern, stern locked to bow,
and not a thing is moving, only our diligent pens.

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poem/30821

---