As tears are rolling down my face
this life I know, a disgrace
and as again I start to cry
this is a perfect day to die.
As I look across my yard
knowing life is so ever hard
wondering how it got to be
this dying soul I call me.
And as I look up to the sky
this is a perfect day to die.
The trees tell stories of my yesteryear's
of love and life and all my fears
and silence is the only sound
as darkness lingers all around.
Silently I break down to cry
this is a perfect day to die.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem