I have no fear of joining the great gathering, that great gathering of all souls 

Joining the spirits of those who’ve been quickened and felled, both those of the young and the old 

For the reaper is a callous dealer and is no respecter of high station or place

Fame nor fortune buys his mercy and will not stave off his relentless chase

A King of peace can me murdered, a small-town boy can be lynched 

A dose of venom can be doubled and your fate shall be irreversibly cinched

An ill fate abides for the preachers of love, as well for the prophets of pain 

Be assured that idolaters shall be randomly spared, while the innocents shall be needlessly slain

Should you doubt his random nature, observe the body of the poisoned priest

While the reaper spared the life of the child bearing the prophesied mark of the beast

From out of the earth arise the tortured corpses, from the blood drenched killing fields 

While obfuscators and confidence men continue to tantalize and cut their crooked deals

The dutiful nun in the cloister prays in vain and dies with her doubts unrequited 

Yet outside of the order the whores scarlet lecheries keep lust’s fiery flames ignited 

Your tears upon their graves are puzzlement, fore your fate may prove to be far worse

The dead have made their final reckoning and they know that sweet death is no curse

For most their release from this realm is a comfort, the certitude of death brings peace

Still some tortured souls who knew not virtue, still long for worldly gains and increase 

While those who perished in service, live on through golden deeds and true love 

Fore their illuminated souls have ascended the heights and fill evils void from above