Man Called Death

Old man

Withered

Grayed out

Still sits

On the porch

With a bottle of wine

As he stares

Into the empty skies

Waiting for

The man called Death

To come and steal his soul

To come and make him unalive

This old man

Has nothing left

Nothing left to give

Nothing left to lose

With a mind

That can't forget

The things he's done

The things he regrets

Waiting for

The man called Death

To come and steal his soul

To come and make him unalive