Do you think we turn into poppies when we pass?
Waiting for Death's sweet kiss
Teary eyes reflecting your corpse like glass
His arrival you shall not miss
Tears hitting your cheek
He takes you soul away with painless bliss
You are no longer meek
You decorate his head with the petals of your life
A crown of poppies on his head
He sobs as it is his job to cause this strife
Poppies for the Field of Elysium
All blood red