I am Death, and I wear the crown, The mistress of all, so cruel and strong. No walls can stop me, I'll tear them down, Your fate is mine; it won’t be long. I am Death, and my reign is cold, Before my scythe, you bow in fear. No fortress defends, no heart grows bold, As the step of darkened fate draws near. You are the guest at the dance we play, Lay down your scythe, spin round, and round. A turn, a step, then swept away, No longer the keeper of time unbound. You are the guest at this ball of woe, Where shadows waltz and whispers creep. The turn of a dance, a fleeting show, And into eternal rest, you leap. I am Death, unyielding, supreme, The mistress of all, none can deny. No walls, no dreams, no mortal scheme Can halt my march; all must comply. So dance with me in this fleeting trance, The scythe aside, round shadows twine. One final bow in the grave’s cold glance, For I am Death, and the world is mine.
