Whether it be today, or tomorrow night, I may not make it home; I might die tonight

It's an endless field, which I perpetually roam And it follows me like how a small animal follows me home It could be police that put me in the ground six feet below  Will they kill me because of the color of my skin and the shape of my nose? I dream of it sometimes; it feels cold and rather overwhelming  I sometimes picture an ocean trench, of which the darkness depths I am delving  I concern only of those I love, will they think I am damned below or in peace up above And of the people I have known in my short years Will I be missed by them, and for me shall they shed tears? I fear not death, nor it's inevitability To do so would be like fearing nature which works ever so incredibly  I cannot really fathom whether I'm wrong or whether I'm right If I get to Heaven If I die tonight