Death is creeping, while I am sleeping. My final year, my final tear, my final verse, there is no more. Death is here, I am full of fear. I have no money to pay Death’s toll, for, I am a mere mortal mind, Who is lost in space and lost in time. All I possess is an endless black sigh; A half-hearted plea for a love-life without the lie.
Fix me once more, or permanently close the door, For I am not yet ready to venture forth, into that long goodnight; But forward I will march into the doom, If I have to meet another version of the truth. With all my might, I continue. Let me pay what they say is due. The work is not yet finished, So before I am diminished, And banished from this spherical giant we wander upon; Let me see one more sun, let me raise a son, Let me say all my final goodbyes, Before all is said and done.
To any truth-sayer, please say “Have a nice day.” I need the sentiment, more than the reality, So at least before I meet my maker today, I can say I broke the mold, With every intention that lived inside of me.