The Death flies with its toxic smell
Away it takes on its swift wing,
The figure so frail and wrinkled;
The family behind bemoans for a twilight.
Somewhere a woman cries with pain
The pain that will bring smile in her life
A perturbed man holds object of his gain
And hand over to his dear wife.
The circle of death and life continues
The creatures play their assigned part
Laughing, crying, moaning and wailing
Till the Director above calls it cut.