No one beats the sickle man
roaming the land with his masterplan.
As you live so shall you die
no matter how lowly or how high.
Remember when a great man passes,
a million died in the other classes.
Their loss we don’t seem to mourn;
is it because they were lowly born?
Or because they never climbed on high;
they simply live and then they die.
Life’s cycle lays the whole world flat;
a dead man’s dead and that is that.
Don’t beat breasts for a famous man
for his death is the same in the plan
as a lowly beggar on some back street
dying beneath the tramping feet
Of the working classes in daily toil.
Both will be equal in the soil
absolved of all of their life’s sin
the Earth will take their spirit’s in.