Death, it is a sad way to go,
to leave this earth, dressed in your Sunday best
While faces surround you with tears
breaking the barriers of their emotions
tearing their hearts apart, looking down
upon my stone face, upon the face, lays a simplistic smile
that shows no emotion, no teeth, no life.
Death, it is a sad way to go.
People hurry, say their goodbyes,
but when your alive,
they never come around, they never call, they never even think
of you and how you are feeling.
While you walk the streets, with a smile on your face,
nothing but knives stick sharpe in my back and gossip
burns a hole in my soul and heart;
but I keep on walking and smiling.
I keep rolling on through like a summer hurricane
tears apart a coastal city in the heat of June weather,
Walking till death comes to shake my hand and grin at my soul.
Then as you lay their in your casket
with a buqouet of your favorite flowers, (Roses and Tulips)
they sit around you, the same faces, the same blind eyes
and they all shed tears and says good things.
Too late for that don't you think?
Death, it is a sad way to go, but what relief you get,
when finally departing in peace and leaving the drama
and careless people in your life.
After I am put six feet under, a week of crying passes,
After two weeks I am lost and long forgotten,
nothing but a stone at my cranium to keep me company
and my new friends, who sleep along next to me.
Dead and forgotten, but the dead never forget their fellow lost souls.
Only the living forget such souls that were so good to them,
now they are gone,
I am gone.
How do you feel, now that I am gone?
Death, it is a sad way to go, but what peace you recieve in Paradise.