As life is ending, there isn't much life left for gripping,
I tell partial truth but still I lie,
In my bed of death awaiting a sinner such as I.
No one hears my moan,
But I feel my groan as deaths shiver combs over my bones,
As the black fire takes up the leaves of the tree in smoke,
I begin to choke for the belief of no leaf is hard to sallow,
As death leaves my soul follows,
And I, dark as tree bark feel empty and hallow,
For me there is no tomorrow.