gone with the wind

It's Death again – He's always there –
Watching, waiting, with a stare.
Every time I look behind,
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood –
A little clue to where he stood:
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But oh, no use, he'll never go –
The adamant phantom – don't you know,
He will but wait until it's time –?
For me to hear His fateful chime –
The toll that's only meant for me,
To say: 'You're next, it has to be…
And anyway, why do you care?
She is long gone;
Let me take you to a better place'