When into the sunset,
Rode the rose colored day,
Night time would come,
And dark would then prey.
As the soft embered orange clouds,
Harded to grey,
The grave robber came,
to take you away.
On foothills Castillian,
And brown fields of whey,
You danced with the reaper,
Till carried away.
Alas, as they found you,
still, there you lay.
Ashes to ashes,
Oh, poor human clay.
When met with your maker,
What did he say?
"To where the worm dieth not.
and there is no decay."
Why did you die?
Why not did you stay?
Life's not a toy,
With whom you can play.
Dust to dust,
You're gone away.
You paid with a price,
Too hard to pay.
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