Live not for life, but live for death
The land in which you'll long reside
Leave not preparing for the day
For when the heart and breaths subside
When death comes near, when eyes are weak
When hair is but an ashen gray
What will you witness standing there?
On that dejected final day?
Will you see surplus, stacked aloft?
Will you be ready and prepared?
Or will you have an empty chest
To meet your death with meager fare?