There is an old joke
About dying
" I want to go peaceful
In my sleep like ol' Dad
Not screaming and crying
Like the guys that
Were riding with him"
I try and guess
How I'll go
People often ask
Which Death I'd prefer
Invariably they pick
Sleep or freezing
Something they think
Will be easy
Screw that, I say
I don't want to go easy
I'd rather get beat
To death with a golf club
Or dashed with gasoline
Murdered by Zippo
I need to be relieved
Of life with panache
I suppose in the end
It doesn't matter
If your eighty
And shit the bathtub
Or if you're shanked
By skinhead Nazis
Who just can't
take a joke
Dead is dead
And that is
Only slightly better
Than a long stoned nap
On a freckled hookers couch
who has taken
The whole day off
To be with you
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