Death is a miracle just as life
Why must we make it such a strife?
Why do people fear Deathâ??s hand?
Friends with him I know I am.
Many cultures make no quarrel
When a loved one leaves this world.
Some people fear and try to cheat him,
But none, none I say can beat him!
He is champion of the night,
On his pale horse of white,
With the moon they fly together
Going through wind and rough weather.
He comes bearing a gift
That from our chest no breath shall lift.
Many people abhor this blessing
Curse it, and find it quite distressing.
Bearing his pale face of white
He comes to deliver a simple delight,
For in Death we find simple pleasures
I leave to your imagination these measures.
He is not the decider of your Fate
That is for you to debate;
You can choose your own pathâ??s length
By your honour orour strength.
His creeping hand touches not our flesh
(When we meet him at our best)
Have no fear to meet his scythe!
You can trust him with your life!
But when against death you rail,
It will stick you like a nail;
He will take you kicking screaming.
Or heâ??ll take you while youâ??re dreaming.
When his black-hooded cloak we see,
Us people become shivery.
Feel no fear! See no horror!
For Death is but a simple courier
