Your death

Thirteen Forty Seven
The year Black Death arrived
To ravage the congested
Christian world

The signs of doom appeared
Upon the land and sky
The sun grew dim
As the great cities burned

Saint and sinner - look your death draws near
Christ and Satan have turned their backs on you
And you can search the soul or synagogue for blame
And burn the witches, all in vain, you'll die

Black Plague of old
You must come by to visit
My century abounds
With disgusting humans

An ample feast for you
Their anthill towns
All crumble like ash
And befoul the sea

I doubt my place within the rebirth cycle
What is the use of a return to living
With naught in the past life acquired
In knowledge of the great beyond?

The all-consuming death I summon
Will surely be as my own
I long to see your death and smile
And with that sight depart the world