Death walks the most eerie places.
He lives in the depth of the restless seas,
glides on the wings of the howling wind;
He roams the wild, lurks in the trees,
Inside the dancing forest;
The inevitable fate of man
At him stares right from a bird’s nest.

Death walks the most eerie places:
In the murk, on the tall palm trees,
Inside those things that bring joy
And comfort and peace –even a child’s toy,
The lowest cliffs, the highest mountains
Reeks of his stale smell that never wanes.
In the air, unhindered by the strongest walls
As silent as a cat’s footfalls,
And as weightless as an hair strand,
He hovers around many a land.


The subtle fire that burns in a lady’s eyes
And the sweetness of his words therein lies
In the deepest of heart
Even in the apple right from the start.

Death walks the most eerie places;
His face is on the dollar bill,
In the most finest wine,
In the precious gem and stones,
Inside the gold mine;
He watches the mortals toil
Endlessly, both small and tall,
Even the rich and poor.
He laughs at the vanity of all.