Pour the anti-freeze down my throat
don't feed me so my stomach bloats
drown me in the river
but your not very clever
strangle me beat me and stab me
no matter what you do i wont be there
no more air
i guess its fair
i was your problem
i was your friend
your foe
but thats not so
just bury me near your conscience
cause its no coincidence
its just death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Tiny aroma of the old grim reaper