David Bowie – My Death
My death waits like an old roué
So confident I'll go his way
Whistle to him and the passing time
My death waits like a bible truth
At the funeral of my youth
Weep loud for that and the passing time
My death waits like a witch at night
As surely as our love is bright
Let's not think about the passing time

[Chorus:]
But what ever lies behind the door
There is nothing much to do
Angel or devil, I don't care
For in front of that door, there is you