It's almost funny, now I think,
That it'd be me to take the fall.
But here it stands before my wake
And me, within its thrall.
They think I don't know
How I'm going to die:
With the fever in my heart;
Both my soul and throat dry.
I haven't been told just what's wrong,
But in my dreams I preconceive
So quickly is my life come to be.
So swift is its reprieve.
I thought to make a list, today,
Of all the things I've done,
But wrote only of things I've never seen,
Of the life I'd just begun.
It's sad, the way that things work out;
Our empty, barren plights.
It's times like this that I know why
The cornered beast still fights.