Death sits quietly on my old front lawn,
Waiting and watching, for me to be gone.
He knows some day that I will leave my home
Whence he can claim it for his very own.

My house will be his, and freedom be mine,
released from all  material confines.
I'll step outside, and for the first time, breathe.
He'll step right in, and in anger he'll seethe.

The tables are empty, the rooms all bare.
I'll have left him nothing, everywhere.
I tore down all the remnants of my life
For it is time to rebuild o'er my strife.

My house in ruin, debt to Death repaid
Cobble by cobble, my new Life is laid.