| My death waits like an old roue'
|
| so confident, I’ll go his way
|
| whistle to him
|
| and the passing time…
|
| my death waits like a bible truth
|
| at the funeral of my youth
|
| we drank for that —
|
| the passing time.
|
| my death waits like
|
| a witch at night
|
| as surely as our love is right
|
| let’s not think of that or the passing time
|
| But whatever lies behind the door
|
| there is nothing much to do…
|
| angel or devil, I don’t care
|
| for in front of that door…
|
| there is you.
|
| My death waits like a beggar blind
|
| who sees the world through an unlit mind
|
| throw him a dime
|
| for the passing time…
|
| my death waits to allow my friends
|
| a few good times
|
| before it ends
|
| let’s not think about
|
| the passing time.
|
| my death waits there, between your thighs,
|
| your cool fingers will close my eyes,
|
| let’s not think about the passing time.
|
| For whatever lies behind the door
|
| there is nothing much to do…
|
| angel or devil, I don’t care
|
| for in front of that door…
|
| there is you.
|
| My death waits there among the leaves
|
| in magician’s mysterious sleeves,
|
| rabbits and dogs, and the passing time…
|
| my death waits there, among the flowers
|
| where the blackest shadows cowers
|
| so let’s pick lilacs for
|
| the passing time.
|
| my death waits there, in a double bed
|
| sails of oblivion and my head
|
| so pull up your sheets against
|
| the passing time.
|
| But whatever lies behind the door
|
| there is nothing much to do…
|
| angel or devil, I don’t care
|
| for, in front of that door…
|
| there is you. |