My Death (Live at the Shakespeare Festival, New York, 18th September, 1995)

Um, the second song, uh, in fact, last time I did it in New York was in 1973
Yeah, that's right. Um, it's by Jacques Brel
I've done this thing as a march, tango, waltz, uh, bossa nova
Tonight I'll just do it with piano. It's called, uh, "My Death"
When you're ready

My death waits like an old roué
So confident I'll go his way
Whistle to him and the passing time
My death waits there, like a Bible truth
At the funeral of my youth
Weep loud for that, and the passing time
My death waits like a witch at night
As surely as our love is bright
Let's not think about the passing time

But whatever lies behind the door
There is nothing much to do
Angel or devil, I don't care
For in front of that door, there is you

My death waits like a beggar blind
Who sees this world through an unlit mind
Throw him a dime for the passing time
My death waits there to allow, my friends
A few good times before it ends
Yeah, let's drink to that and the passing time
My death waits there, between your thighs
Your cool fingers will close my eyes
Oh, let's not think about the passing time

But whatever lies behind the door
There is nothing we can do
Angel or devil, I don't care
For in front of that door, there is you

My death waits there, among the leaves
In magician's mysterious sleeves
Rabbits, dogs, and the passing time
My death waits there, among the flowers
Where the blackest shadow cowers
We'll pick lilacs for this passing time
My death waits there, in our double bed
Sails of oblivion at my head
Pull up the sheets against the passing time

But whatever lies behind the door
There is nothing much to do
Angel or devil, I don't care
For in front of that door, there is you

Mike Garson
Thank you very much, good night