The angel of death watches over me.
She has a face, and a name,
and a voice.

The angel of death is a dancer,
and a graceful one.
So I follow her steps
as she calls.

I hear my name
and I feel no more,
and I see no more,
and I am no more.

I sacrifice my last, desperate breath
to call your name,
but you are away, in other arms
I love no more.