For death will come to each,
And the brave will care not so,
For I do not dread my death,
It's just the dying... oh, so slow.
For each man must face his demons,
Look the devil in the eye,
Recall the mistakes that made him,
Then surrender and say goodbye.
But how can we define the sum of us,
After a life of sixty years,
Is it the love received or given away,
Or the conquering of all our fears.
No! Life for me meant loving,
To escape in your sweet embrace,
To feel again your loving touch,
And to see your stunning face.
With you... life moved too quickly,
For we had no time to grow,
So I'll ask God for one last wish?
And that's to die... Oh, so slow.
