When the old man heard that his lungs were shutting down, slowly, very slowly, second by second he wondered, "where they go after killing him each and everyone of them a little more?"
The birthday cake will look like a practical joke, like a funny calendar of dead seconds.

Can a man die bit by bit and not the whole?
if every second counts, where are gone mine?
Because an old watch stop counting hours
when it can’t measure any length of time,
movements as been slowing on the wheels
have clocks like it is supposed a golden heart?

Closing my eyes can only see a deep dark void,
color of eternity without the presence of stars?
someone or something is pushing me away
to leave an existence I certainly didn’t ask.
It will be not departing with an happy hooray
as we came the first day, with that painful cry.

Soul entrapped in a prison made of failing flesh,
empty are the vessel that contained tears, sad,
because all the years used because of sorrows,
and so few were dedicated to learn how to smile,
suddenly the mirror is confronted by the man old
which never knew whatever happened to the child.

Sisyphus, condemned to push uphill a round stone,
then is we, doomed from birth to lose our life,
to carry the heavy dead weight of flesh and bones
corroded by illness, age, becoming a shadow, bad,
the soul is crying to be let free from the prison flesh
knowing that there’s nothing on the pulsating heart.

Reaper Oh Reaper waiting on me since I was born!
Haven’t learned that of Death I am a cheating man?
Don’t get that shovel digging my grave, not yet,
on a barren miserable world where vultures never fly
because there is coming Armageddon of Abraham
and eternity will be for me, a little speck of time.

Can a man die bit by bit and not the whole?
if every second counts, where are gone mine?