I really don’t want to die like my mother
but when it’s time I’m sure I’ll discover
my liver is hard as igneous rocks;
Yellow skin like my pair of Jake socks
Hair is already coming out my head
S’why I started wearing my wigs instead
All out of iron and legs bruise with ease
sometimes all takes is too hard a sneeze
Thanking God e’ry day I still got my teeth
that part just a dream, what a relief!
I am used to waking in terror at night
dreaming of food but no teeth which to bite
being chased down by one I don’t know
usually no face or body to show
Black cloud of evil o’er my head
Prolly the reason I fight with my bed.