Hello there sir!
Why how do you do?
I'm doing quite well.
How about you?
Fine, just fine.
But my begonias are dying.
They're wilting and wilting
There's no bother trying.
But try sir you must!
That is what we do.
To thrive and survive...
Am I not just waiting in queue?
Sitting and biding
As time doth draw near.
But your begonias are dying!
What should I have to fear?
For your garden you fool!
Why its all that we've all got!
A garden to till,
And begonias to rot,
But you've said it right there!
The plant's reached its prime.
And I am a man,
With limited time.
Aha! Now I've got you.
A son of Camus*
What if next its your roses?
Then I bid them adieu!
Your violets, hydrangeas?
And lilys to boot?
Do they mean nothing?
But sir neither do you.
I don't get your meaning...
And that is the key.
You will be alone!
And thus Ill be free!
So what will you do,
With no garden to grow,
Some dead begonias
You'll be lost to ago.
Perhaps you are right.
My era will pass
But Ill arrive at the answer
At long, long last
But what is it? You'll tell me?
When you get there I mean.
You remember my garden,
Here like its been.
My begonias are dying
That is all you need know
And maybe when yours do
You'll finally know
My garden is glorious
There'll be no Death here
What you have now
Will soon disappear.
But we're going in circles.
May your garden grow tall,
Why thank you good man!
Before Death steals it all.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 10:47 PM UTC
Hello there sir!
Why how do you do?
I'm doing quite well.
How about you?
Fine, just fine.
But my begonias are dying.
They're wilting and wilting
There's no bother trying.
But try sir you must!
That is what we do.
To thrive and survive...
Am I not just waiting in queue?
Sitting and biding
As time doth draw near.
But your begonias are dying!
What should I have to fear?
For your garden you fool!
Why its all that we've all got!
A garden to till,
And begonias to rot,
But you've said it right there!
The plant's reached its prime.
And I am a man,
With limited time.
Aha! Now I've got you.
A son of Camus*
What if next its your roses?
Then I bid them adieu!
Your violets, hydrangeas?
And lilys to boot?
Do they mean nothing?
But sir neither do you.
I don't get your meaning...
And that is the key.
You will be alone!
And thus Ill be free!
So what will you do,
With no garden to grow,
Some dead begonias
You'll be lost to ago.
Perhaps you are right.
My era will pass
But Ill arrive at the answer
At long, long last
But what is it? You'll tell me?
When you get there I mean.
You remember my garden,
Here like its been.
My begonias are dying
That is all you need know
And maybe when yours do
You'll finally know
My garden is glorious
There'll be no Death here
What you have now
Will soon disappear.
But we're going in circles.
May your garden grow tall,
Why thank you good man!
Before Death steals it all.
*An absurdist philosopher, pronouced Cam-oo.
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