my death

David Bowie

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...