1. It's ugly when the sob of a mourner is heard
As fate draws near, and I meet my end

2. Not that I chose death willingly
But soon the youths will pull me to my grave

3. If given a choice I'd not leave my place
To live in a narrow valley after wide plains

4. I found death stealing lives everywhere
With tragedy lurking behind every dune

5. So I advise you, think little of this world
For I follow in the steps of my people