His breath smells of belladonna
his darkness waits for mine
for where I do stride
Death follows

He would love to have me
and oh boy, cronicle me
yet he can cast nothing on me
just the wish he could have me

Death he does follow me
but I pull his cloak
and make him a mocking joke
yet death still follows me

He once tried to fool me, you see
he laid a banquet on for me
silverware polished and the finest of wines
he biddeth me to sit... I said it's ok I'm fine

Oh Death follows me
he is a persistent fellow
yet if I turned to face him
he will run screaming, for he is yellow

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris