Chime along you baby child of mine.
Suckling out the little I have left.
Your mouth spits out leftover, green grime;
Unable to use it for the little left unsaid.
Rage through the age of remembrance,
Dance with the sass of the moon in June.
Ode to the majesty that is you!
Ode to the songs trapping all of your gloom.
The ages will remember little of you in the end.
It will end only in your death.
Little child of mine, do not cry.
It's only the fury that we call our lives.
Rushed back by the eastward winds,
It's our horses galloping, and on them, our sins.
Through the trenches and in the form of a flood,
Comes our remorse, it's face covered in blood.

Chime along you baby child of mine.
I have no more to give, for you see, I am almost dead.
Before I leave you, I give you my heart and my spine.
Here is the lesson: don't leave things unsaid.

That is the ultimate death.