Although I can't find Death,
He's kept an eye on me.
At every corner another mourner,
Infects my memory.
'Tis with my grasp I cling to Life,
Her careless wander goes.
A game like chance she dares to dance,
About the grave yard's rose.
A breath may be a spirit,
Or so the scriptures claim.
But where's the holy comfort solely,
For all the breathless slain?
My cradle granted time,
Where Death first shook my hand.
Where Life's fickle bosom suckled,
Where the grave began its command.
Where no one thinks to see,
How pointless this must be.
Where the needle of time is a toss of a dime,
And your memory is lost in the sea...
And everyones lost in the sea.