When I die, let it be,
With raindrops upon my fevered brow,
With blood red wine upon my tongue,
With your gentle kisses upon my lips,
With my limbs caressed in golden honey.
When I die, let me feel,
Soft butterflies painting my ashen cheeks,
Perfumed old breezes playing with my hair,
My ice cold bones warmed by summer suns,
Milk kisses upon my breasts, by silver moons.
When I die, let me hear,
Final words, upon the breath of violins &
harps,
The sweet serenading voices of colourful birds,
Oceans & seas singing, upon ancient far
winds,
And soft beckoning whisperings, of passing Angels.
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