Getting Late
I Ima Ryma
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My God, the morgue is where I'm at.
I'm still alive. Why can't they tell?
Some kind of paralysis that
Just took hold of me - what the hell?
I was taking a walk outside.
My face brushed some leaves overhead.
I fell. Passersby said I died.
A doctor confirmed I was dead.
Now I'm lying on this cold slab,
Praying that somehow, someone will,
With a non lethal prick or jab,
Discover that I'm alive - still.
Oh God, the last thing that I see -
That whirring blade coming at me.
Bu şiiri puanla
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