Luna Schwartz | + Follow Poet |
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Hey, Mrs, Johnson

Hey, Mrs. Johnson
Soon I'll be dead
Soon I'll be six feet under
My children will cry
At the volume of thunder

Hey, Mrs. Johnson
I hope you don't mind
No one lends you it back
I'm not borrowing your time

I stole it
Or you spent it
You can't relive a scene
You're living
Or you're dying
But there's no in between

And that's why I'm sad
As I rot on this beds
I spend my life dying
Stead of living
And now I'm deads

I spent my life working
To pay off my bills
Didn't see the world with my children
And now I never will

Hey, Mrs. Johnson
This isn't to depress
Just a warning that your life
May be even less

Hey, Mrs. Johnson
I'm scared like a baby
At age thirty-seven
Did my tree blossom
Or wilt itself away
Am I in hell
Or am I in heaven?

Hey, Mrs. Johnson
Call me the priest
I hope he can pray
For me as I decease

Hey, Mrs. Johnson
Death is calling me
The streets feel desolate
Glass houses are empty
And lonely

Hey, Mrs. Johnson
Death's walking the street
Every second a lamp shatters
Crystals broken and tattered

Did I even matter?

Hey, Mrs. Johnson
On my very last breath
Death shall be no more
I shall conquer death.

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