Come maids of doom
and fill my gloom
with blackness
of the night
and creep about
inside my head
and tell me
I am dead

for oft tis said
we all are dead
sometime somehow somewhere
but nevermore
for we are dead
our lovingness misread

come creep about
and have a rout
all things are
at an end
for thee and me
are all at sea
on this there is no doubt.