I am dying, I am sick
My skin is yellow and my liver’s slick
For weeks I’ve been starving
My body’s vengeance carving
What is left of me
My face in the mirror looks like a wino’s, you see
Like a street addict I am filthy and sickly thin
Doesnt matter why, or matter where I’ve been
Will I know the claw that claims me?
Will I know dying before I know death?
The living carry death within, you see
The prescient foretaste of a bitter memory
But the dead are beyond death
Only the living have it on their breath