Coming Home

Coming Home by Asahi Sakuraba

I lie on the grassy hill
In the midst of winter's chill
I sit and shiver from its cold embrace
As I wait for death to deliver me from this place

I watch the stars in the clear sky
The beautiful scenery is enough to make me cry
Death's cold hand slowly caresses my skin
He pulls my soul out of the vessel I'm in

My consciousness begins to slip away
I am the cat who was once led astray
Death guides me back home, warm and kind
The light embraces me and eases my mind