In the soft earth, there’s a grave awaiting you,
Souls coalesce, and hug the ground like dew,
They serenade the gray plains with their haunting
Melody:

“Come on over, don’t fear the reaper,
Join us in our masquerade,
Over here, the ground is deeper,
The train to death is never swayed,
We know you want to live your life,
But is it not one massive strife?
The reaper can’t wait to drag you under,
But at least he won’t tear your soul asunder,
The eternal darkness is comforting,
There’re no worries when you’re always sleeping,
We know you have qualms and solid misgivings,
But the reaper is so gentle,
He takes the fragile living and puts them under his wing,
And brings them to the region where he is king,
The train to death is steadfastly flying,
Weepers are crying, you are dying,
But why bother hold on, for the shred of hope,
That always seems to be gone?”

But the souls of the dead can feel no more,
And cannot know what you have borne,
And oh how your family shall morn,
For the dew-stained, ancient stone grave,
A makeshift cenotaph for your final destination
On the train to death.

“All aboard…!”