Final Song

They called him Opa, he was so....old. He took l-dopa and hoarded gold. Behind each hedge he saw a hider it was his pledge that a lone rider from evil places with devil's claws was counting paces avoiding flaws so during sunrise he flipped completely this ain't no fun, guys he folded neatly and stretched supinely he stopped his breath then went divinely to his own death. You see the shock did that morning sun and like a mock kid on his last run he was the victim of his own mind which really tricked him and fate was blind. The final plea which made him fail was, on a tree a nightingale.