On my mystic mug. A friend brought it back from Goa. It's covered in holy writings, and when you drain the dregs you can see Vishnu giving you four thumbs up.
How cheated would you feel? You've spent your days slaving away for these fuckers, working your fingers to the bone, and when you get some time back to yourself, you go and drop dead in Asda's frozen food isle.
He was just leaning down to fetch a tub of Carte D'or when the whole of his left side went stiff. Poor Pat thought they'd had the freezers up too high, but no… fatal stroke.
Death, eh? We're just passing shadows in the big scheme of things. Gone in the twinklin' of an eye. No rhyme, no reason to it. Your parents have it off, and if the doo-dah meets the wotsit, nine months later out you pop! And you think you've got all the time in the world, don'tcha? When you're young. But the sands of your life are tricklin' down all the while. And as the years pass, they trickle all the quicker. And before you know where you are, they're booking your funeral.
