Death
When you don't have shame
When you don't have shame
And you call his name
Out of hate, not out of love.
He'll appear at the windowsill as a beautiful dove.
Whatever you do, don't let him into your abode
For surely he will turn into a more vicious mode.
With a touch of his scythe, he'll whisk you away.
For a soul like you, you will not stay.
Your soul will burn as if trapped in an urn
And that's how you'll stay forever.
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