Death Is Not The End
Death doesn't wander in randomly,
The executor in a shroud;
It acts without fear or favour,
To instigate pain under dusky cloud.
Death doesn't wander in randomly,
The executor in a shroud;
It acts without fear or favour,
To instigate pain under dusky cloud.
As a small child I fancied to sail
By ocean to a land of fairy tales,
Camp in a field with Little Red Riding Hood.
Dazzling stars would fire at the Big Bad Wolf.
If death is nothing at all,
We will be enjoying summer and fall;
We shall talk and laugh as we have always done,
Instead of waiting for my time to come.