If death was knocking at my door

If death was knocking at my door
How could I meet my maker?
Most often I think my soul he'd work for
But we all die sooner or later

If death was knocking at my door
I don't think I could fuss
But considering he's been there before
It seams that I have some luck

If death was beating at my door
I'd be to week to reply
So he'd let himself in to finish the chore
But I wouldn't actually die

Now what if he wasn't there
But I wanted to leave the earth
Would he take me? Would he care?
No, like always I'd eat dirt

So now it seams I already know
It wouldn't mater if I stay or go
Because on a world, a world so cold
I've already lost my soul