Who knows it? The infinite abyss,
the end, the apocolypse,
Man's dying day and final wish,
abhorred by all that find it.

Who wants it? The hangman's noose.
Bodies swinging free and loose,
whipped by servants bound to Zeus,
madmen find they seek it.

Who needs it? The slash of wrist
A razorblade, unholy tryst
Father's tears and Mother's kiss
They cannot let you need it.

Who sees it? The reaper's smile
A scythe, and smiling all the while
spirits dark and spirits vile
Only the dead can see it.

Who hears it? The wind of course I see,
whispers lies to you and me
The door is locked and breaks the key
And trapped inside, we hear it.

Who fears it? The living man breathes dying air
A life for nothing, see him there
beneath the ocean, pale and fair
I believe we know we fear it.