My death waits like an old ruin.
So confident I'll go his way.
Whistle for him in the passing time.

My death waits to allow my friends
a few good times before it ends.
Let's drink to that in the
passing time.

My death waits in my falling leaves.
Magicians mysterious ease,
rabbit's dust in passing time.

But whatever lies behind the door
there's nothing much to do.
Angel or devil, I don't care,
for in front of that door there is you.

My death waits in a double bed,
sales of oblivion at my head.
Pull up the sheets against the
passing time.

My death waits in your arms,
and your thighs,
and your cool fingers will close my eyes.

But whatever lies behind the door,
there's nothing much to do.
Angel or devil, I don't care,
for in front of that door there is you.