If I should die tomorrow burn “those” sketches which I drew.
Don’t read my songs and poems ‘cos they’re made up and untrue.
Throw out my notes and life works, they’ll take up too much room.
Scatter my worthless ashes, I don’t need no showy tomb.
Incinerate my wardrobe and fumigate my house,
scuttle my trusty speedboat, and “take care” of my spouse.
Drink deep at my wake, wipe your mem’ries of me away.
Don’t shed a single tear as my cold body decays.
Don’t bother with an eulogy, those who knew me have their own,
“I told you all that I was ill!” engraved on my tombstone.
If you’re here because of my suicide, six bullets in my back,
everything is kosher, ask those men in black out back.
To my many, many lovers, for God’s sake see a G.P!
Maybe they have a cure now, if not rub it with some ghee.
Spend my gold and silver, but don’t let the taxman know,
“invest” in whores and fast cars and the rest I’ll let you blow!
Don’t fight frenzied for my fiat, it’s not worth the printed ink,
intrinsically worth zero, worth less faster than you think.
To my workmates you were all right, it WAS me after all.
Tell the boss the source code’s guarded by an A.R.C. firewall.
To my best mate: What the fuck! I thought you’d kick the bucket first!
But I could be listening to your prose now, so things could be MUCH worse.
Safe to say those under 33 put that fucking “smart” phone down!
It’s sucked so many years from you, you worthless snowflake clowns.
To everyone who’s curious about an afterlife,
If there IS one you’ll hear 8 knocks now and see a shaft of light.
Disappointed? Well you’re forewarned! So live to your heart’s content
an’ while I’m at it, between friends, and to round off my 50 cents.
To all and anyone still listening here’s my nugget of sanity.
Ah, just a mo, there’s a voice … it’s DEATH, and sHe wants me.
©26.9.2018 Andrew Robert Chapman
I’m sure everything’s kosher, just ask those men in black.
Don’t shed a single tear as my body slowly decays.
Disappointed? Well I warned you! Live out your days without repent,
Disappointed? Well I warned you! So live to your heart’s content
“invest” in whores and fast cars and mountains of pure snow!
“invest” in whores and fast cars and by Bing let it snow!
“Invest” in whores and fast cars and lots of pure white snow/blow.
Ah, just a mo, there’s a voice in my head. It’s DEATH, and sHe wants me.
To all those under 33 put that fucking iPhone down!