On the point of death

Don’t save your breath

There is no free will

Just the terminally ill

The fallen corps

A wintry door

Satan treads along our beds ,

Take over prey

We pass away

Fading fast – die is cast

Not long for this world

Soon to be furled

In extremis – salute the menace

On one’s last leg

Not too late to beg

One foot in the grave

For whom do you slave?

Giving up the ghost

Received by the Host?

Ceasing to exist

Ah, the fruit we kissed

In decline by lethal design ,

About to disappear

Truth ever near

The dying embers of the fire

All souls God will require

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