We are all born to die
In this game called living
The ghost of death raises his claws
And tears apart your energy
The wings of death will take your soul
Your body is an empty shell
The wings of death will erise your life
You will fly in the night
The wings of death a black bird
The wings of death the last escort
We are all born to die
Material things have no value
Everyone carries the mark of death
In the abyss of decacy.