The warm breathe of death strikes with great might,
Arrow of sorrow seeks her place to ******,
And weariness drops in a rose at night.

This thief in the night knows neither small nor great,
Crawls with stealth, an inevitable defeat,
The warm breathe of death strikes with great might.

Anguish, escalates like fire burning at night,
Grief, like hole dug in the heart,
And weariness drops in a rose at night.

Death is the enemy, she fights with fierce strength,
The undefeated champion, fears neither human nor conquest,
The warm breathe of death strikes with great might.

Brave are the minds who fight the fight,
Wise the souls who prepares the night,
The warm breathe of death strikes with great might.

To rest a flight, a day set apart,
Like an expectant Mother ready to give birth,
The warm breathe of death strikes with great might.