Never Catch Me

To Taste It

Ah the way your demise smells

And permeates the air around

Painting colors, red and brown 

Of detachment to the ground

Oh the way that your departure feels

And chills my rough and calloused soul

Fills me with ungainly cold

From the realm of stories told

Yes the way your end sounds

The low chord of Titanic's band

Sound of your ashes mixing with sand

Screams of the sorrowful and the damned

Dear the way your decease looks

The rotting skin and settling dust

A coffin tainted now with rust

Eyes closed tight for now they must

No the way your death tastes

The tears that never leave my face

A lonely soul will slowly waste

For death is rest and life a chase