Hey Mr. Death,
When love is such that we
Yield to a sudden urge to kill our mate,
When you can turn around and find hate
Inside the eyes of someone next to you,
When wealth's to be enjoyed but by a few,
Who wouldn't give you anything for free,
You come, my friend, and take it all away.

Hey Mr. Death,
I laugh as if I fall
Into the graveyard of the living dead,
Where the insurance clerks have made their bed
With sickness covers and malpractice sheets
That cushion every blow that you deal,
Yet deep inside I know, I can feel
My heart that's pounding, with every beat
It's getting closer to your final call.

Hey Mr. Death,
I want to say good-bye
To those who somehow have been wronged,
I've heard their death throes, their final cries
That rose like a question mark in pain,
But there's no answer, what remains
Is life without answers and sad songs.
 

                                         April 3, 1995
                                              --Alexander Shaumyan