Morte

I don't see a face

Or any ounce of grace

I don't hear a word

Or listen to the birds

I don't feel love

Or anything you can think of

Without knowing life's forte;

Morte.

Maybe life is a visceral dream

Dream on then, it seems.

In truth we should all be terrified

Stability is a state of mind

Stability is an illusion

A gift from nature, so kind.

And when your lover dies

You'd beg for one more day

What does the w***e say?

Morte.