The longer we exist, the more we must let go. Do we fight against it, or accept it?

  • bunkyprewster@startrek.websiteEnglish
    6·
    24 days ago

    When the angel of death comes.
    I won’t cry.

    I won’t weep and wallow 
    “Oh why, why, why”

    I won’t bob and weave 
    When he swings his scythe

    I’ll look that fucker right in the eye.

    You come for me?
    G’wan then, give it a try

    I’ll go down swinging 
    When it’s my time to die