I feel like I’m fixin’ to die

My dingy soul grows sicker

Heart’s red flame

Drooping to a flicker

But one good thing about death

It’s not all harm

When I rise from the grave

I’ll grab God by the arm

And say ‘My Lord, My Lady, 

Why did you give so many things

Stiffen me with greedy needs

Cover me with unitchable stings?’

I coulda been a forward scout

Bravely carrying your torch

I coulda made the desert bloom

Instead of continual debauch

I coulda been a force for good

Returning better than I left your hand

A shining angel of the book 

At your throne to stand

You hummed me your choicest songs

And I sang every note leaden

You coaxed me toward the light 

But I hurried to Armageddon

You gave me the best coaches

Jesus and his brother Buddha

But I couldn’t quit my squalid self

Bleating coulda shoulda woulda

So what do you have in store

For this comic hero

 My soul flying like an arrow

Through the hole in a zero?

Will it be better in heaven

Or more of the same?

Every joy a sin

Feast after feast of shame

If this be so

And I lose my locomotive will

Please let me die on fire

Instead of sleeping still.

Graeme Farmer

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