Oh, somewhere down the road Well, there's a ditch or there's a hole That marks the spot where you will lie when you are cold And you can run and you can hide And you can bitch and you can whine But you'll never save your life When you meet Death Be out of breath And say you're pleased to see him 'cause you're tired Now you can go down with the wreck Or you can scurry from the deck But there's no way to save your skinny little neck And you can pray to who you please And you can fall down on your knees But your feet will still get wet When you meet Death Be out of breath And say you're pleased to see him 'cause you're tired Of wondering how much time you've got left Of worrying that you're no good at chess It's your funeral anyway Choose your game then let's play Yeah, when you meet Death Be out of breath And say you're pleased to see him In fact you're waiting for this meeting And well, frankly his time-keeping leaves a lot to be desired So tell that hooded huckster that he's fired