He lifted his bony fingers to the knock,
And sounded the toll of Death.
He’d been through the scene time and again,
But would try again with Beth.
he knew what she would look like,
He knew how she would sound.
He thought of what he knew she’d say,
And almost turned around.
He’d clutch his pretty flower,
And hold it to her nose.
At the sight of his skeletal fingers,
She’d refuse his single black rose.
He had left his reaping weapon
On the pale horse he tours.
He’d learned well from that mistake,
He’d made it many times before.
Listen! Her footsteps are approaching.
She turns the handle of the door.
At last he beholds her beauty,
No one could possibly hold more.
She places the lonely flower
In a vase on the table.
She takes his hand and rides his horse,
No other had been able.
He takes her to his favorite place,
A warm little spot, of devilish decor.
She probes the entire menu,
Aw, Hell! She wants him to order.
They dance on Heaven’s highway,
They walk along the shore.
They kiss the deadly kiss of Death,
And then she comes back for more.
Death’s heart, if he has one,
Is beating wildly every minute.
The entire night is wonderful.
The Grim Reaper revels in it.
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