  O sombre skies that ever mourn, O silent skies so grey and stern, Are ye the curtains of that bourne Where we at last our fate must learn? Is it behind your gloomy veil The Judge with Book of Judgment stands? Where we must pass, with faces pale, Awaiting judgment at His hands? O sombre skies that frown all day Upon us hopeless, hapless men, When Death shall beckon us away What happens then? What happens then? |
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