Fear not Death, his reaper comes for his due,
And all men have to die at his crescent,
He comes for us all, mendicants and kings,
And comes for our children, our little babes,
Yet there is no one to prove their mettle,
No one to stare him in his monstrous face,
And stand before him, and challenge him so,
You there! He amidst us, of noble blood,
Come and prove here the mettle of your birth,
And you! Veterans amongst the unworthy,
Have you the airs to challenge Death himself?
Alas, there is no one so rightly made,
And so be it, for a dare unto Death,
Reeks more of folly than righteous courage,
But we here, standing amidst stone and steel,
All of us broken, hopeless, unfinished,
Never brave and noble men, and rightly so,
For Death does not deserve such foolish hope,
Rather, I pray, it needs a good Judas,
One to stab it between its mired ribs,
And so here we are, we fools and gamblers,
And here stands our challenge for Death himself,
For there will be a day, when Death may die,
Death not be proud! For it is here we dare,
Dare not to die, but to live, as to spite,
And it seems even Death may fear us fools,
For yet here I stand,
And yet here we are.
