Death passed me by,
but he touched my soul.
While his scythe of fiery lead,
cut a swathe through the pre-morn light.
Bony fingers plucked holes in mortal flesh.
To quench the reaper’s thirst.
He passed me by,
this time.
Death passed me by,
but he touched my soul.
While his scythe of fiery lead,
cut a swathe through the pre-morn light.
Bony fingers plucked holes in mortal flesh.
To quench the reaper’s thirst.
He passed me by,
this time.