Marc Almond - My Death

My death is like a swinging door
A patient girl who knows the score
Whistle for her
And the passing time
My death waits like a desperate truth
At the funeral of my youth
We pray for that
And the passing time

My death waits like a witch at night
As surely as all love is bright
Who loves for us
Amd the passing time

But whatever is behind the door
You know, there's nothing left to do
Angel or devil, Idon't care
For in front of that door
There is you