As I Lay Dying

So I started walking down the street,

while I melt my toes into concrete.

There’s no sorrow neither people crying

that’s what I see as I lay dying.

Fresh air softly combs my hair,

couse must look appropriately once there.

So preacher don’t keep on trying.

I’m seeing it all as I lay dying.

Luckily I don’t leave behind a wife or son

just flesh, blood and bones.

A cheap casket are they buying.

Empty for now as long as I lay dying.

Sweet lovely death, hold my hand for last,

and take me there if you must.

I’ll know if you’ve being lying,

I see it all as I lay dying.