Death Coming Gently

Fear can hold you prisoner

And Hope can set you free

So pray for me

As I runway

Following whispers on the wind

sweet syllables in my mind:

Runway son runaway 

Somewhere, there is a space for me;

a place for me,

to die.

Death coming gently,

singing softly to my soul:

Runaway son runaway 

Her warm arms are waiting

Laughing as I cry

And with tears flowing down my cheek

She’s waiting for me to fly


Runaway son runaway 

Escape is the sweetest dream

Runaway son runaway

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