Money For Heaven

My belly aches for precious food my androgens are in the mood, one foot already in the grave the other one acts rather brave. Each calendar does lie a bit and one has placed me in the shit. A silver lining in my hair and shaped I am just like a pear. So many early warning wrinkles and endless, unproductive tinkles, some clerks now dare to call me dear a wonder that I still can hear. I see my cute optometrist with glassy eyes, inside the mist and when I pay for groceries I reach and take the first green peace out of the wallet, giving gladly, my sight has sunk to 'rather badly', it is my cottonpickin head that wants to keep from being dead. I pay the charlatan and quack to feed me pills and fix my back. While longing for longevity I do forget that one small key has been created for my soul when God designed it to a role. But, never one to listen much I aim to commandeer a touch of real immortality all for a lousy service fee. And when I'm down to my last coin and angels beckon me to join I'll have no choice and will not care and, like a blinded forest hare I do remain in place and freeze then give the world a final sneeze. I think the words above might say it matters not what we can pay and that we would be well advised not to be cut or analysed. There comes a time when your own number unlocks the door to endless slumber. So I shall keep my hard-earned cash by now it is a hefty stash. And take it to the Never-Never a move that labels me as clever. So, having been on earth a scrooge the benefits shall be quite huge. Make-over for the mind and bod and pay the man, in this case, God.