Death's Severed Head Poem by Albert Price

Death now goes about without it's head,
Lurking around in the shadow depraved.
But now unable to aim it's sharp sting
And to claim it's infamous victory at the grave.
All it does now is invade our innocent youth
And tries to afflict them with lust and hate.
It burdens them with hopelessness and despair
And ruins minds while holding wide the devil's gate.
It met the people trekking through the Sinai,
Seeking the glorious life of the Promised Land.
It turned back their minds to the fleshpots of Egypt
And took the gold they had brought from their hand.
No more let death be the darkener of your heart,
Nor bend your image and steal your youth.
‘Cause death and it's head was made to part,
And now eternally drips its blood in truth.