As my neck is embraced by the rough hewn rope,
The same rope that intends to strangle my last hope,
and life from this form,
Twitching, and swaying,
My body hanging warm.
Instead of six feet under laying,
I am in the desolate courtyard
Vultures circle overhead
Sun beats down hard
The earth too hot to lay in bed
To get a much needed repose
Rejuvination at its best
All I really need I suppose
Is to give my heart its rest.
Inject the ****** through my chest,
Needle point in my heart,
Plunger depressed,
I get my final rest.