Death IncarnateTwisted bones,Blackened cloak,Of the souls of the dead, To whom he spoke.Soulless eyes, Broken laugh,Filled with hateDeath incarnate.
RosesRosesRoses, red and darkAs the nightHearts are heavyStricken with blightAs the funeral progressesThrough dew-lit grassThe heavy black dresses, Old buttons of brass.And a little girl, a little girl,Who stands in the crowd,Tears, like diamonds on her necklace of pearl,With red roses, velvet and sweetClasped in her tiny hands,To lie to the grave resting at her feet.The red roses, the red roses,The death in their hearts,Shielded forever, those beloved roses,With final words: To death 'till we part.