The angel of death came calling on me
On one of his life taking spree
I would teach him the art of procrastination
Say my soul needed beautification
And heaven would have to wait
I would need to cleanse my heart
Before I would from this world depart
So that heaven could open its gate
Not treat me like a surrogate.
I would not like to die on a hospital bed
With pins and needles stuck all over
Through a pipe being fed
Visitors trying to put on a sympathetic face
Turning away with pity,a look of grimace
It would be good to die at home surrounded by
Children and grandchildren.If I will last that long.
Going,going,gone,playing in my ear a favourite song.