He is the reaper man
The harvester of souls
The Death of all
'Cause everybody falls
When he comes for you
Don't even try to run
You can't hide from him
He will track you down.
Bearer of the scythe
On white stallion he rides
When your time is up
He will be your guide.
He is Death
Everyone has an hourglass
Each has his time of living
He will be there when it's up
So says ''Good Bye'' to all the weeping
He cannot feel the sense of time
He doesn't have it, doesn't need it
For him a second is like year
And a decade likes a minute
He does his job faithfully
(It's odd to say that Death has faith)
He fulfills his duty just perfectly
Yes, he is the almighty Death
He is Death
One day on a desert plain
Hidden among the nightly sky
The servants of Azrael
Wanted him to die
So they fired him from his position
Although he was good employee
The skeleton decent to earth
To live his life among mortal beings
He found himself a job that fits
For an old lady in a farm
Her name was Miss Flitworth
'Help needed' said the sign.
The job he found, so odd it seems
Match him like, don't know what,
To be the reaper man of grain,
To harvest the grass with a scythe
He was Bill Door
There is no need to say
(But we say it even though)
He was a master with the scythe
And you know why it was so.
One day he saved a little child
From a burning house in town
But it cost him with his life
Now, his life is done.
He said ''Good Bye'' to his boss
The old lady was so sad
He started to sharpen his scythe
Now he's going to be, err, dead.
He was Bill Door
The new Death, how to say, was bad
Not evil, just without a skill or name
People ended their life and died
But to take them no one came.
But he did came for Bill Door
But the old Death beat the new
He reclaimed his old job back
On his horse he rode through.
Death brought order to the world
Azrael rehired him without a choice
And Death has proved us all
''Without me could be worse!''
He is Death.
