So unloved yet must be hugged.
A traveller without a destination,
From door to door on visitation
To and fro he moves like a pendulum
reminiscing of the barber's seat back in d days.




He's got many names and operates in many ways,
Taking men straight to their graves and never the other way
Some he visits at dawn others at dusk but he visits for sure
Even the strongest fortress crumbles when he knocks on the door.



Oh death !
How great is man's offence that thou forgivest not
Your cold hands hurts the south and the north.
Is your visit to us a must ?
Isn't Your cousin sleep ?
You always send him to us and we think that is enough.