As I lay in my bed one night,
Far away from dreaming,
I noticed something for the first time truly,
Something quite startling, my friend, quite scary,
What did I notice?
I hear you cry
It wasn’t the drunk out doors,
Nor was it the cat playing in moonshine shadows,
and it wasn’t that the tap was leaking,
it wasn’t that I wasn’t asleep,
and it wasn’t that I had overdue homework,
It was, my friend, that I will someday die.
That’s easy enough to notice, I hear you cry,
Yes,
easy to notice, my friend,
But far from easy to understand.
That’s why people make up stories,
To explain where dead people go.
Some say up,
And some say down,
Some say space,
Some say the ground,
Some say nowhere,
Some say, where we are now,
Some say I have no idea.
But the truth still remains, whatever you let yourself believe,
The truth, that each and every one of us, will some day die.
Feel your nose my friend,
That will go for sure,
Weither you be buried beneath the cold, cold ground
Weither you be burned up and put in a jar,
Your nose will be no more.
Now feel you cheek bones my friend, come on, don’t be afraid,
They will remain, if you be buried beneath the ground,
For they be part of your skull,
The ultimate symbol of death,
Feel your cheek bones, and imagine your skull,
The skull that hides beneath every sheath of face.

Weither you be ugly,
Wiether you be pretty,
Weither you be beautiful enough stop traffic,
Or ugly enough to do the same,
Your whole face, my friend, will go,
And live only in photgraphs.
Read this line my friend, go on, I dare you, go on read this now,
Your voice, my dear, will be no more
Once you have shuffled of this mortal coil,
You can’t scream or shout, or laugh or sing, nor mock another, nor preach of sin.
Your voice may live on in recordings, but that is it.
Write your silly poems and books
Draw your pictures
Take as many photographs as you can,
Record your voice over and over,
Dance around the garden naked,
Or read the bible at home,
Tell others they are wrong,
Rant about what you hate,
Sing about whoever dumped you last,
Write a mean review,
Do whatever you want, you fool,
just remember that you will someday die.