Fear

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You can’t sleep, you can’t eat, you tremble and you quake
Death is at the door, your soul he’s going to take

For you he will not knock, your name is on his list
To Woodward Blvd. he comes, with you he has a tryst

Your bowels you can’t control, your guts are in a knot
Your screams and cries and pleads, all will be for naught

Howl oh ye rich man! It’s too damn late to pray
Death stands upon your welcome mat, your soul he’s going to slay

Go to now, ye rich men, weep and howl for your miseries that shall come upon you.
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