Here come the people of the morning
And the heat of the light
What a gentle way of warning
That I slept right through another night
Death comes every evening
Crying at my door
Standing cold out on the sidewalk
But I know just what he's looking for
He's looking for a body
That simplest to find
And he thinks that he can have me
But I know it's not my time
When kindred souls are far away
And the endless night is near
These few words I often pray
Spare me over one more year
I never leave without a pen knife
In my pocket or my hand
For if I'm taken from this brief life
It will not be from his hands