My death waits like an old roue'

so confident that i'll go his way

whistle for him

and the passing time...

my death waits like a bible truth

at the funerals of my youth

where we laughed at that -

the passing time..

my death waits like

a witch at night

just as surely as our love is right

oh,let's not think about the passing time.



For whatever lies behind the door

there is nothing much to do now...

angel or devil,well,i don't care

for,in front of that door...

there is you.



My death waits like a beggar blind

who sees the world with an unlit mind

throw him a dime

for the passing time...

my death waits to allow my friends

just one or two good times

before it all ends

we'll drink to that

to the passing time..

my death waits there,between your thighs,

your cool fingers will close my eyes,

let's not think about the passing time.



For whatever...



And my death waits in the falling leaves

in a magician's mysterious sleeves;

with his rabbits,with his doves,

with his passing time...

my death waits there,in all the flowers

where the blackest shadows will cower

where the lilacs chime

for the passing time..

my death waits there,in your double bed

your cool fingers against my head

oh,let's not think about

the passing time