In the end when they send you off in
a coffin
and drink your goodbye with slices of egg and dutch ham pie,
you may wonder why they're saying nice things,when they couldn't be bothered to see how you where,when you were there among the living and giving your best.
You were a pest and let's face it, they couldn't stand you but look at them now,long drawn out faces,squeezed out cake cases litter the floor,what's it all for,who are they trying to fool?
Not me
for I've gone,
but suddenly I was the best thing since the advent of the wheel,I don't feel it at all,let them have their ball,play their games,cry hallelujah in all of God's names,it's a sham,a bit like the dutch ham which came from Algiers.
Let them shed tears,they'll *** less as my dad used to say,but it's a sad state of affairs when at the end of my days,some sausage mouthed man gets up and he says,
'we''ll miss him,our friend'
Send me right now to the Devil and how he will pay,it's not bad enough that I'm dead but to listen to this is really *******.

I would say this as I kissed off this world,

'he was a ****,bright not thick,,a waste of time in a time of waste and a pasty faced ,two toned, large *****,I'd rather that he telephoned,i couldn't stand the sight of him,he liked the sound of his own voice,you listened as you had no choice,will we miss him?not so much but in some weird way he touched us with that madness,sad less and even less than that,the beer he left us for the wake is in the barrel flat

that's a whole lot nicer than the type of spice they curry you with when you're on your way,and who am I to say all this?none but the one who will miss me the most.