Death is Calling

Death it is calling, death is standing in the shadows, standing high standing tall
Death it is waiting, waiting for you, waiting for me, inching ever nearer our mortal frame.

Just a shadow, just a flame, how soon we hear a rustle a stirring as slowly a hand reaches out to us.
Reaching out, to us, we back away hoping to flee away, but our fate it is sealed, our time it comes as a rushing wind.

The cold hand reaches out pulling our soul from our bodies, soon glancing all around.
Another stands ready, waiting to greet us each, and every one, if on "Him" we stood our ground.

Death waits but an instant, to see if we've been covered, by the blood.
If we've been covered then from us does death flee, our soul enters into life, forever remain far from this earths worldly floods.

Death waits but an instant, to see if we've been covered, by the blood.
If we've not, then death reaches out his cold dark hand, leading us forever to the flaming flood.

Death it comes swiftly, it comes soon, my friend death it is not the end.
Death it is the beginning, the beginning of full joy, or it is the beginning of full horror --