Away, away, sailing away,
alone on a wide wide sea;
Drifting, floating on a white cloud plain--
not a thing in sight but me
A mindless breeze, a silent whoosh,
propels the ship ahead,
in the distance, a faint line forms,
a line up of the dead.
Where are you going? I question,
Why am I left behind?
Do not worry, your time will come,
came the disembodied reply.