When it’s time to say our goodbyes
to all the things I’ll run to see
the sun on the sea may take my eyes
&
When the last rag has been wrung
of dirty suds that justify a fight
my buds can drop right off my tongue
&
When the ones I love decompose
can I still pretend they’re alive?
For my clan I’ll always defy my nose
&
When the bedroom is only for sleeping
well… these nerve endings can fuck
off, no verve no pluck in this King
&
When the sounds of the living are just groans
and the birds and the bees have gone to feces
my lords will remain beetles and stones