Death! why do you call on us?
the lighting bulb left and darkness takes over;
the lunar sit in the sky in fears
and death rides on a carriage pulled by black horses
with pure scars and sharp spears
in look out for passengers
It comes across my door step
emerges down from his carriage
and put out is hands to knock
with a form of entry
for I to fill and play in the cemetery
He came across me with my flesh glued to the bed
and my white balls till behind there doors
with my ears guarded it holes from accommodating sounds
and he touches on my flesh with his cold hands
singing an ugly beautiful melody to my soul
So pleased and relaxed I felt in my soul
and boarded with him in his carriage
with no luggage
and ride through the night
to the cemetery, where we tent
So close to me as I could feel his breathe
and put forth his piercing hands
stripping my soul out of my chest;
with my red wine we made a toast
and lay my flesh on the dust to rest
being free from the weight
of this egg we dwell
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