Sunday, 1 April 2012


ladies & gentlemen, sittig here,
eating & drinking & warming a chair.
feeling & thinking & drawing your breath,
who's sitting next to u..?? it may be death.

as a high-stepping blondie with eyes of blue
in the subway, on beaches, death looks at u;
& married or single or young or old,
u'll become a sugar daddy & do as you're told.

death is a g-man. u may think yourself smart,
but he'll send u to the hot-seat or plug u thru' the haart;
he may be a slow worker, but in the end
he'll get u for the crime of being born, my friend.

death as a doctor has first-class degrees;
the world is on his panel; he charges no fees;
he listens to ur chest, says--'you're breathing that's bad.
but don't worry; we'll soon see to that, my lad.'

death knocks at ur door selling real estate,
the value of which will not depreciate;
it's easy, it's convenient, it's old world. u'll sign,
wotever ur income, on the dotted line.

death as a teacher is simply grand;
the dumbest pupil can understand.
he has only one subject & that is the tomb;
but no-one ever yawns or ask to leave the room.

so whether you're standing broke in the rain,
or playing poker or drinking champagne,
death's lookin' for u, he's already on the way,
so look out for him 2-morrow or perhaps 2-day...


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