A thousand times a day I say

I wish that I could die today.

I wish that I could lay my head

Against the wall and say: Be dead.

Let’s say that you succeed--

The thought be father to the deed.

What happens then? The nearest star,

I understand it's very far.

I understand it’s many a mile

And therefore it will take a while--

Four miles an hour for a man,

Or say a dozen if he ran.

It adds up to a while in time.

To many another mile in time,

But not enough to get you there.

If all else fails, there's always prayer.

No, no matter how you try,

You won't get there before you die.

You won’t get to the proper place,

The spot somewhere out there in space

That's been fenced in for you alone.

It's what you wanted, truth be known.

But you in fact won't ever know

Where in the After-Life you go.

Nor if in fact you're really there.

In fact why would you really care,

Why does it matter to you, nor

Why should it, being out so far?

Well, how about a farther star?

If it be nice there you could stay.

If it should be too far away

You still could make a wish upon it--

Wish it to have fish upon it.

If they're goldfish you'd be rich,

If needles, you'd save many a stitch,

In time become a well dressed guy.

Though what I'd rather know is Why.


2011 mar 28 apr 1 2 5 6 2012 jan 22 nov 9 fri d fulgham

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