Death and taxes, I get it. The only guarantees in life. But the death part seems a little less definite. I mean you’re gonna die but some part of you just doesn’t believe it. You wake up every day. You’re still here.
If the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and hoping for a different outcome—then what about the thought of dying? I keep thinking about it, but it doesn’t happen, so I must be insane.
Which reminds me of that crazy kid’s prayer they taught you back in the days of the lava lamp. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take…what the hell?
You’re a kid and they’re teaching you a prayer about croaking in your sleep? No wonder I can’t catch forty straight winks. Between wondering if