Death is not rest
Of course, it happens to even the best
From the east to the west
However, it is a test
Not some type of fest
In heaven
Or a descent to hell
It is a change
To enter and live within a new range
The new land may be rather strange
For anyone in it's range
In fact, death is something to give a wide berth
Because it is not worth
Going where you ought not
You have no clue what is on the other side
And you cannot pay God a bribe
Even if you are Bill Gates
All that he does anyway is masturbates
Because rich people are scum
Basically I am a bum
Chugging a bottle of rum
But I am not dumb
I don't smoke so much I lose a lung
Or drink so much I lose my liver
And quiver
Waiting to meet death
I try my best and give in a good breadth
However, no matter if you quiver
Or lose a liver
And no matter how much you quiver
You will one day wither
And if you ever slither
You will wither
In fear, misery, and doubt
In a strange new land
Where the only band
Is death metal
Through loud headphones
As you sit over a pile of bones
While George Bush sits on a throne
And you moan
In utter pain
And it is in vain
And utter horror
And look at your disembodied intestine
And Heart
And Liver
And you were never a giver
And you are never restin
Or testin
Anything
You are in a personal hell for good
And there is a lot of wood
On the fires
And the demonic spires
They are evil
And not evil kenival
They are the essence of hell
Or if you are seen well
You will dwell
In another strange land
Where the band
Is good
And there is wood
On the fire to keep you warm
And no demonic swarms
And no satanic storms
And all is pure bliss
And you can have all you wish
And there are lots of fish
In the grandest sea
But you never where you are headed
So to many it is dreaded
But it need not be dreaded
Or desired
Because if it is desired
You will not be hired
By God
Or by the boss named Rod
As CEO of America
Or as a septic pumper
But always will death be on all our bumpers
And no I am not a bible thumper
I just call it all as I see it
And no I have not been bit
By some type of insanity
Or profanity
Or glamity
Or riches
Or too many *****es
And no I don't need stitches
Because I can close the cut
Not with the butt
Of a cigarette
But with the butt of my mind
And I am no longer in a huge bind
And I am not blind
That I will die
But for now
I may as well try
To get to the other side
On the right side
And glide
For all of eternity