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