I do not want to die having done anything,
And I do not want to die having done nothing.
Idealism is futility,
Futility is your reality.
I admit it,
You drink from a golden chalice but your head is made of clay.
I won’t deny it,
I smear ash on my face but my heart knows not decay.
I am sorry that you are sorry,
I am also so sorry that I cannot please you.
Life is for the living,
Death is for the dead.
Do not worry about me – me who is the Reaper’s spawn.