It only takes five minutes
From a smart West London flat
Only takes five minutes
To a thin blade in the back
That’s what the woman told him
Was the gist of what she’d said
He wanted proof she offered truth
And now he’s lying dead
He never knew that Death had stalked him
That she’d been there all the time
When he visited the gypsy
She’d been three steps behind
And as his spirit left his body
He looked down but did not know
Who the strange girl was
With blade in hand
Not twenty feet below
Never knew that out of boredom
And the urge to take a life
That Death herself had aimed the blow
With her sharp bone handled knife
Death is sitting waiting on the outskirts of L.A.
For a train that’s packed with people
Which is heading out this way
You’ll never know she’s coming
When she does she never stays
But she’s here right now
On the main branch line
On the outskirts of L.A.
Death is floating, dreaming
Five miles out from Tiger Bay
A ferry full of passengers
Is heading home today
And as the engine blewThe hull right through
Just one man knelt to pray
In the pouring rain
Of a howling gale
Just out from Tiger Bay
Death is sitting smoking
On the slopes above Pompeii
Waiting on an old volcano
One which rarely likes to play
And the people down below her
Cannot know that it’s today
That the ash will fall
Their lives will stall
And she will have her way
If Soma, with it’s sweet allure
Were ever there to grace the minds of men
You can be sure. Twas cut & baggedAnd sold as pure
I made inquiries, most discreet
Was guided through back streets unto a door
With urgent need I thought of nothing more
Than of this purchase, which I knew I must complete
So I knocked, as I have on many doors
And wondered if I would on many more
As darkness fell I waited in the street
I hung on every sound with baited breath
Twas then I heard the step of sandled feet
No stranger at the door, but only Death
She said –
There’s one at the door
At the gate to salvation
There’ll be room for one more
Til the end of creation
There’s one at the door
At the gate to damnation
There’ll be room for one more
Til the end of creation
There’s one at the door.
Chris The Poet Dibnah