Death is something that you fear,
This I know is so.
For every time I mention Death
Your reactions kinda...Slow.
Your eyes grow round,
Your thoughts grow deep,
Your pulse begins to race.
Spirits of those forgotten,
And those you've lain to waist,
Appear from out of nowhere,
Right up in your face.
But is seems there is nothing you should fret;
You're the strongest in the land.
There is nothing that can beat you
With your trusty sword in hand.
But when the Reaper comes
You know your time is done.
You are no longer a man,
All you can do is sit and cower,
For you know that this is your Final Hour.