I swear on my death that I saw you next week,
You were stood walking across a grand creek.
The water was dry as you started to drown,
The smile on your face was a furious frown.
You fell to your feet in the top of a ditch,
Watching your motionless dead body twitch.
A flash of thunder darkened the skies,
All of this seen through your unseeing eyes.
The smells that you heard were disgusting to see,
But your lonely trapped soul was happy and free.
The rain fell in flakes as the sun shone above,
As I rammed this sharp knife through our undying love.
I've already forgotten what I remember,
The fact that you died alone next September.
Now as I look back at this story of you,
I realise the lie is the part that is true.
When I think of the nothing that you're meant to be,
I sense that this poor sod is actually me.