david bowie
my death
My death waits like an old roue' so confident, I'll go his way whistle to him and the passing time... my death waits like a bible truth at the funeral of my youth we drank for that - the passing time.. my death waits like a witch at night as surely as our love is right let's not think of that or the passing time But whatever lies behind the door there is nothing much to do... angel or devil, I don't care for in front of that door... there is you. My death waits like a beggar blind who sees the world through an unlit mind throw him a dime for the passing time... my death waits to allow my friends a few good times before it ends let's not think about and the passing time.. my death waits there, between your thighs, your cool fingers will close my eyes, let's not think about the passing time. For whatever lies behind the door there is nothing much to do... angel or devil, I don't care for in front of that door... there is you. My death waits there among the leaves in magician's mysterious sleeves, rabbits and dogs, and the passing time... my death waits there, among the flowers where the blackest shadows cowers so let's pick lilacs the passing time.. my death waits there, in a double bed sails of oblivion and my head let's not think about the passing time. But whatever lies behind the door there is nothing much to do... angel or devil, I don't care for, in front of that door...