Song Lyrics

Some kill their love when they are young,
Some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.

Some love too little, some love too long,
Some sell, some buy;
Some do the deed with so many tears,
Some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.

Yet each man does not die.
each man does not die.
Does not.
Die.