• when the door of life is opened, and an icy breath steals through,
    you know that time has ended and ther's nothing you can do,
    each day th reaper's sickle takes the ones we hold most dear,
    we mourn with subdued silence, and our hearts fill with fear.
    the soul wich lived within it has returned to him who gave,
    for this part is eternal, and belongs not in the grave.
    A single roise on a womans chest, placed by love's kind hand,
    is sewwter than all the flowers in the land, if we love our friends
    while living, lets do things to tell them so, much better than showing
    it too late to let them know, but there can be too much mourning,
    the world has so much sorrow, and we wrong ourselves and others,
    in a past with no tomorrow, and time, that greatest healer, will
    drive away your pain, mend your broken heart, and make you well
    again.