The clock of human life is slowly winding down to die.
Its spring gives out a final stretch,
then weakens with a sigh.

The bell has gone,
The line's in sight.
We sprint towards our certain plight.
We're glad that there are others here
To pace us to the finish.

We deify ourselves with death;
We slaughter others with our breath;
And yet we are still here to see
The way we shouldn't be.