Here I lay,
Waiting on heaven.
What else should I do,
Model my body for science,
Nahh, I’d much rather search,
in hope of hope, no, only dirt.
It happens to be the case,
That even if I could see,
I would only find,
Maggots in my sockets,
Flies at my cheeks,
An irresistible itch in my groin.
What a wonderful home it is,
blessed be these flies,
and the maggots,
Who will leave me in time.
This is my home,
but soon, very soon,
It will only be a house,

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