His aching eyes, they beg for soft release.
Weak’ning by the day – ordered to survive,
Were he able he’d ask the pain to cease.

His eyes implore his sons, daughter and niece,
How he wished his notes read ‘do not revive’.
His aching eyes, they beg for soft release.

Feeding through tubes, a pump maintains his breath,
His being, he exists, less than alive.
Were he able he’d ask the pain to cease.

Agonising, so close, eternal peace,
He longs for the spectre, wielding his scythe.
His aching eyes, they beg for soft release.

His resolve and his hope have both decreased.
He used to be healthy, virile and lithe,
Were he able he’d ask the pain to cease.

He knows his family will be wracked with grief
When the angel of mercy does arrive.
His aching eyes, they beg for soft release,
Were he able he’d ask the pain to cease.