Whats left in it for me?

There is a fear inside of people
That is difficult to overcome
Like a long lasting nightmare
The endless beating of a drum

I guess it is impossible
To master your fear of death
It's not something that is shallow
It has a lot of depth

It is better to not know at all
When your time will come
But if death sends you a letter
You'll know exactly who its from

How much better up there
Could it really be
Because this world is now a terrible place
And I wonder, whats left in it for me?