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
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