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