You skulk in the darkness, head hanging low and heart made of stone.
Your job is a grisly one, your job is a necessary one.
People fear you, people try to run and hide from you.
You walk alone, you stand alone, you’ve been alone.
But I understand your job, I understand the necessity, and why you hide in shadows.
So come, sweet Death, I’ll hold your hand, even if its just for a fleeting moment.
I will show you kindness, sweet Death, as I do not fear the inevitable.