20 August 2012
It's death again- He's always there, Watching waiting- e'er the stare, Every time I look behind, Or reach to pull the window blind, I catch a glimpse of his grubby hood, A little clue to where he stood; The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe... But oh! No use, he'll never go. The adamant phantom; don't you know, He will but wait till its time, For me to hear his faithful chime? The toll that claims my destiny, To Hail! 'You're next, it has to be...'
Death • Opuss № I