Death come, and rattle these bones,
until all this light is gone
A slow burn, replaced with a chill,
enduring and still, a calm

A watermark, a savior
A bird from on high

Fight, fight, with the last of your will,
to choke and distill the call
Lay down, your eyes, oh so pale
Your mind, oh so frail, and cold

The shadows are stirring
The new from on high

Death come, and rattle these bones,
until all this light is gone