When d**h comes I'll need not love – Consumed, No wreath or dove Could offer me salvation, Not when I'm no more. A weathered stone will bear my name – Identity of once a being Living out existence in A world of risk, and never seeing Sense of why we're here. My genes will die away thro' child – Hue of eyes and hair, the way of thought, Will quickly dim with generation – Bow to future dominance – Memories of provenance Resigned to curious few. When d**h comes I'll need not grace Below; no grieving face Will call my resurrection, Not when I'm at ground – d**h and I so bound.