Death was in a tearing
hurry
His forehead sewn with
lines of worry
His chest made a fearful
gasping sound
As his feet sprinted above
the ground
So I stopped him quick and gently
said
Who is the poor sod s’pposed
to be dead?
The Reaper caught his
breath, exhaled
But then his sweaty red
face paled
His eyes didn’t meet mine
as he replied
Woe, you’re the one who has
died.
ram cobain
(Pic courtesy Google)
