I am DEATH. You may pass through me and leave no trace; I have no mortal face. My own two sons I gave them life, and I filled their living corpses with my bile. Why don't you pull the plug? We're living in the pupil of 1,000 eyes. At the trumpets of Jericho, still the walls remain. Oh ye great mysterious shepherd of waves, offer me your secrets, so that he may spout thick blood.
I am DEATH.