It’s true you live you die,
And in-betweens there is life.
Some happy some sad,
Some good some bad.
Sometimes uplifting and glorious in your life
Sometimes dark and soul destroying.
Time does not go on,
when I am abroad.
Collecting souls of the listed names.
Name, title, wealth nor education matter,
when the strings of life are cut.
When your time is up its up.
No bargains to be struck or deals to be done,
Life just stops dead.
The end.
What you say, so short a life I need more time
To amass more wealth or power.
Alas it is not so for all you do
Is grab and take.
You seldom care or look or listen.
To the world you hurt, you miss her dying,
in your haste you do not see her cries of pain.
So few see what most are missing.
Take care of her for I may reap your soul,
but as I walk through out your land,
you must by now know that you're the ones,
who **** your land, sea the air you breath.
Through greed and power, into the mire of wanton destruction.
Most will not know what they had until it’s gone.
A few good men and women try.
Try while your world cries out for help.
Still I walk through this land, collecting the souls
of a few good men and women for as I have said
when your time is up its up and my book grows
thinner by the hour.
How the reaper see the care we take of our life and planet.
