Death I Am

Thee feels sickness Am not that of sickness Am a curse to your destiny Am thee who takes you from your many To Thou land of any I might come in day light Afternoon or Thou sweet night I might come hast Thou strong as rock And Thou breaks thee like stick Thou not a killer While thee view as a murder I take thee on a journey Journey of soul only Where Thou shall be lonely Am the truth Thou seek for The future of Thou future Am water which is inevitable Thee with no choice but drink Listen! Thee who moans awfully Keep this at the back yard of mind Moans nor for those who embark Because, also am at your back Coming faster than you think Moan for Thou yours