Its sealed with a breath, destined truth unspoken.
Weak within its flesh, soiled to its eternity.
Whoever thought memories could be hardened?
Whoever fought death as an opponent?
A touch to depart as sorrows banish itself in time.
We were born to die, a moment to the holy sigh
As we move forward together in our separate lines,
To each his own, the grim awaits to mark his reaper on their slate.