You sit in your red plastic seat,
Awaiting your destiny, one we will all meet,
You cling to your chairs wooden sides, your knuckles clenched
But,
Only when the pain is really intense.

Your fibres hang on to your meagre frame,
When you catch sight of your own reflection,
You see how much you have changed,
The many folds of skin, the lack of hair,
You know inside you'll soon be there.

Around the rooms more chairs await,
For those who have lived and feel they are late,
For the place we are all going,
But,
They have to wait in this state,
Until it's their time to knock on heavens gate.