Looking for somebody to cry on the shoulder;
Wants to record all my past in a folder:
This is the panic of growing older.

You don't have to be sobber;
I Know I might be crossing the bar in a short time;
I will miss steering at the moon,sun and stars.

Indeed life is a battle field,
And am almost done fighting.
Prepare my elegy;

For I don't have much energy,
I wish to stay much longer,
But I can hear the alarm very loud like a killing thunder.

Prepare my dirge:
And Nobody should cry in my back,
For I Know I will sleep in a holy Land.