Sick with fever
Dreaming death
I come closer with every breath

Coughing red
I lament
Cursed plague, my life's now spent

Eyes are streaming
Chest is full
I can feel the Reaper's pull

The collectors call
"Bring out your dead!"
Pass me by, I'm not ready yet

One more breath
One more day
Oh Lord save me from the grave!

But the sores still weep
Yet I smile
Over here, one more for the pile