from within the dense fog a lone, outstretched finger-bone beckons
a black robe shields him from the living light surrounding me
in sheer terror I resist
futile attempts cease as the blade is swung
alas, the grimreaper has claimed another soul

"you can't do this, who'll feed my family"
--I know not
"you must release me, I have business to attend to"
--I care not

no emotion dwells in...it
I attempt to reason; "heaven can wait"
--true, but you're going to HELL