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Again a death and the gloom
A musty and putrid smell of death
That always looms large hanging in
As the creapng death closes on
stale breaths fuming through pores
As the flesh blood and salt on sores
Yeah the times are crazy for rituals
Of bygone Era where burials sing
Eery tunes of forbidden evil
dare me to see the passing soul.
Of times we came to believe
that death lays its icy hands
On kings and even on angels
and known are angels
dying suddenly and silently
and unknown are the bubbles
coming to life for a moment
and fadeaway in the next
but we humans sort of wise
breath arts of science
still we all die and perish
though few may have
tombs laced with memories
Still the vicious thing is feeling
and death is a feeling
real be they on screen
unreal in lives they have been
who knows how the life lasts
And a lonely sage or seer tastes
and makes ready his wreath
later to stun those all who breath
cinemaa or draama ends
always adrift and abrupt
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