My Death

My death waits like an old roué so confident I'll go his way whistle to him and the passing time... My death waits like a bible truth at the funeral of my youth weep loud for that - and the passing time... My death waits like a witch at night as sure

4. My Death There's a sign carved deep, In the palm, of your hand, There's a birthmark craving, On the left side of your heart. Your life was forever structured, composed and eternally given, (The dying you produce never stops, In the sound of univer