The dark may come if I close an eye,
And make me scream and make me cry;
Shadows long and ghosts dance near,
To try and force upon me fear.
Ever on guard to make a stand,
To be delivered from his bony hand;
Trying to kill, to quench my breath,
Forcing now a rendezvous with Death.
Take heart lads! War is now won,
Forget the things that you have done;
Back to sleep memories must go,
While ghosts come dancing to-and-fro.
As if to settle an unpaid score,
A debt of blood you cannot pour;
Looking down a rifle sight,
Squeeze a trigger and it takes flight.
Never to be heard before it hits,
A bullet’s target is where you now sit;
Death come knocking again once more,
For setting foot on a distant shore.
Alas! Fear not, for all is well!
We’ll blow them all to bloody hell!
Crimson blood flows now from within,
Time to atone for your mortal sin.
Who will call? Who shall answer?
Tis Death that will, the ghostly dancer;
When all is done - nothing left to do,
Will I now foil Death’s rendezvous?