Death come, and rattle these bones,
until all this light is gone
A slow burn, replaced with a chill,
enduring and still, a calm
A watermark, a savior
A bird from on high
Fight, fight, with the last of your will,
to choke and distill the call
Lay down, your eyes, oh so pale
Your mind, oh so frail, and cold
The shadows are stirring
The new from on high
Death come, and rattle these bones,
until all this light is gone