Something inside just doesnt feel right
I talk to the reaper maybe every other night
He says it's not my time yet but I dont believe him
Talk to him more than I do God, who would've thought

Hes just happy to have some sort of companion
Someone that thinks of death as much as he
Someone that sees it as the almighty powerful
Something out of gods reach
Something like that is the power the preachers should preach
Something the teachers should teach

We should bow to the reaper pray for his forgiveness
As it's his blade where well breathe our final breath
Think our final thought, fight our final fight
What's after death surely doesnt matter

As our atoms start to scatter as if they were never together
In a way they're kinda clever, never attached to the permanence
move on with no emotions binding them
So they can start anew