I had to stop the conversation,
it overwhelmed my imagination.

I screamed to my wife,

Give me a chance to die,
I'm not dead yet!

She was going on and on,
about my funeral plans.
Kind of put a bad taste in my mouth,
a sorrowful thought in my head.
Who wants to be buried before time,
let my life go on and sublime.

Living in America,
long as I freaking can.
Eating, drinking coke, and being merry,
with not so much worry.
Riding along in my 5.7 liter hemi,
earning all I can,
and not begging give me.

I'm a real man walking,
and in death I'll be stalking.
My spirit will live forever,
flying around clever.
I'll write verse upon the sky,
I'll be a poet that will never die.

Until death do us part,
my word and I are soul and heart,
have been from the start.

I have no regret,
I'm not dead yet!

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