Fill up your cup of life to the brim
For over the crest of that hill, Death comes apace
He waits impatiently for you to come to him
He sits in the back of your mind, that wide open space
His smiling face turns yours quite grim
His gaze sends shivers through your bones, making you grimace.
But it's alright, you don't need pockets in your pants when you are dead.
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