Death is a (sing it) smooooth op-er-a-tor.
Often gliding in, then out, suddenly, quietly, invisibly…except for the reduction left in its aftermath.
It does not need a spotlight…It moves with darkness.
Notice the pronoun.
No musical accompaniment…unless you want to count trembling, regretting, bargaining, begging. And such music is discordant.
No plea for an encore.
Death does not notice.
It has already moved to a new venue… booked in advance.