I’m not in the mood for dying, I don’t mind you,
just send a postcard when you get there
I’ve got a face like bad origami, crumpled and creased
and full of concerns
fractured life lines on both my palms
an eerie foreboding my race is nearly run
I want more mince pies and a window seat
when the new world order marches into town
I’ve got a hundred houses to paint
and a thousand poems to write
I’m not in the mood for dying
GC
