|
The Pale Horse Reward
Time goes by of it’s own accord.
We hold no more time than our own,
And after all, death is our reward.
There is no drawer where time is stored
From which you can take a loan.
Time goes by of it’s own accord.
Do not spend your stay here being bored.
Why work your fingers down to bone
And after all, death is our reward.
So rise, we will, unto the Lord,
But only if we have time to atone.
Time goes by of it’s own accord.
Always, your soul moves ever onward
Until Death comes riding on a pale roan
And after all, He is our reward.
So while you're here, strike no dischord
For nothing is forever, not even stone.
Time goes by of it’s own accord,
After all, Death is our reward.
|