Silas Greaves - Conversations with Death | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Silas Greaves
• Conversations with Death

O, Death. O, Death.
Won't you spare me over 'til another year?
But what is this, that I can’t see,
With ice cold hands taking hold of me?

O, Death. O, Death.
Won't you spare me over 'til another year?
Well I am death, none can excel,
I'll open the door to heaven or hell.

O, Death. O, Death.
Won't you spare me over 'til another year?
O, death, someone would pray:
"Could you wait to call me another day?"

O, Death. O, Death.
Won't you spare me over 'til another year?
No wealth, no ruin, no silver, no gold
Nothing satisfies me but your soul