He sat alone beneath the trees,
Beneath the starry skies.
He thought alone of what he's seen
and what it means to die

"Some are full of virtue.
Some are full of venom.
Some are somewhere in between and full of indecision.

Some die steady and slow.
Some die fast and loud.
Some die somewhere they can never earn a burial shroud.

Some are surrounded by people.
Some are surrounded by money.
Some have nothing of the like, surrounded by nobody.

And still they go alone,
Where living do not roam.
And go wherever they must go
To lands that are not known.

They speak of death with peace.
They speak of death with calm.
They speak of death knowing release
Will one day be the balm.
To all their grief, and all their pain,
Knowing they may never think and never be again.

But they all die the same
With nothing to their name"

Then the man beneath the trees,
Dressed in myth and legend,
Started off into the dark
To find the end made for him.

He walked alone beneath the trees,
Beneath those starry skies.
He faded into darkness deep
For even Death must die.