whats a scythes worth to one whose soul has been sold roaming around with his old cloaknowhere he hasn't been on this globemy lover,following around in dark he's the ocean and the wildfirea friend to all,a friend to noneoffering his hand to my child kindest to me and my bride never out of his sight i can hear his boots walking alongin the club or by the bridgeeating brunch or cutting a treemy lover so alone and so closealways welcome in everyone's homecan't keep him out with chains can't escape him on a planebelieve me he has tried to runaway from his own sightkilled again and again yet still alive like a slave who can one turn towhen you're a shadow only a player in this tithe nothing to own but a scythe
