They are dead flies in my tea

what will I be if I taste the deep?

Fried eggs and being, don’t laugh at what you see

People will die resting, praying or still

I will cry till my voice becomes steam

Maybe death is a passage to life we can’t see

Or maybe it’s a way to get even with God

Why Can’t we live each day expecting death?

Why do we cry when people die?

Why do we even die?

I remember death like I remember my friend victor

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