My death waits like an old roué,
so confident, I'll go his way.
Whistle to him and the passing time.
My death waits there like a Bible truth,
at the funeral of my youth.
Weep loud for that and the passing time.
My death waits like a witch at night,
as surely as our love is bright.
Let's not think about the passing time!
but whatever lies behind the door,
there's nothing much to do.
Angel or devil, I don't care.
For in front of that door,
there's you.
My death waits like a beggar blind,
who sees the world through unlit mind.
Throw him a dime for the passing time!
My death waits there to allow my friends
a few good times before it ends.
Yeah, let's drink to that
and the passing time!
My death waits there between your thighs,
your cool fingers will close my eyes.
Oh, let's not think about the passing time!
But whatever lies behind the door,
there's nothing we can do.
Angel or devil, I don't care.
For in front of that door,
there's you.
My death waits there among the leaves,
in magicians' mysterious sleeves,
rabbits, dogs and the passing time.
My death waits there among the flowers,
where the blackest shadow cowers.
We'll pick lilacs for this passing time!
My death waits there in our double bed,
sails of oblivion at my head.
Pull up the sheets against the passing time!
But whatever lies behind the door,
there's nothing much to do.
Angel or devil, I don't care.
For in front of that door,
There is YOU.
