Death is a dear friend,
An undying lover, a fiend.
To some of us an inevitable end.
To others a chance to mend.
It’s always unforeseeably near,
It weighs on us, makes life dear.
But to the others who’ve proclaimed for long,
And sing this tired and weary song,
Live life to the fullest;
It’s like the Sun trying to rise in the west.
Trying to change the way we live
In the fear of what must give,
Is letting death define you,
The very paradox of what you tried to do.
Being bold, brave, reckless,
Driven by your fears, you’re anxious.
Claim to be young, wild and free,
In reality you’re running, you flee.
Youth escapes you.
Love evades you.
In your search of a fuller life,
You are filled with demons, strife.
And before you know it, you’re too far in,
It’s consumed you, your conscious feels like dirty linen.
This is where you search for your estranged lover,
You see no way out, it’s all over.
And just when you realize that there is a way,
It’s too late, Death has her say.
For the Sun always rises in the east.