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The way to death is drawn-out

and seems as if it never ends.

Your life passes by,

you're standing impassively aside, gazing towards death.

No fear of nothing and nothing can shock you,

alone you go hunting.

The torture of the victims takes days and months

The way to death is long and painful.

No power will ever destroy it and nobody will be spared of it

It shows no mercy or compunction.

Its task is to clean the world.

People are frightened of your power

They try to run, but they can not escape.

The death is our judge, he strikes despiteously,

lonesomely he rides through the night,

You're the master of existence and dying,

your gift is a horrible death

You choose your clients by yourself

your power is unimaginable,

no one will ever stop you.

The black man with his scythe is immortal.

The death is our judge, he strikes despiteously,

lonesomely he rides through the night,

The death is our judge, he strikes despiteously,

lonesomely he rides through the night,

at the end of the world he waits for his victims

to accompany them on their trip

Forever......and ever!