Death's song plays in tune,
in tune with lives he holds in his hands.

He plays of loneliness and depression to
come,
he sings of lost lives and death itself counting
down until the lives of mortals are all gone.

Death keeps his tune with a flute that he hides
behind shadows and tucks deeply within.
His heart turned dark years and years before the moon
was introduced to the sun,
and before life corresponded to death.

He cared for no one and was taken the job of
holding lives,
lives of the lonely, the sick,
and the heartache,
he was told he couldn't come back,
so he spends eternity sitting beneath the
shadows,
of the layers of dark corridors and dark passageways
of people's worst nightmares,
and the last thing you'll ever hear,
is the death's tune loud and clear.