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Owen Tromans & The Elders
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A Terrible Bird
Here come old death like a terrible bird
You gotta give that son of a bitch the respect he deserves
His presence is dulled by electrical wires
Oh, I see old death when the world it is quiet
In my dreams he's chopping up wood
Under one wing he carries a drop of all our blood
For each man and woman: you will have your time
Where he will greet you by name, for death unlike love is not blind
Fetch me water
Fetch me a drink
Throw open the windows while I tell you what I think
Old death is with us; he hovers down low
With you in his beak and me in his beak he knows when we will go
With you in his beak and me in his beak he knows how we will go
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