single insect born and soon to dye
for the moment feels alright
but the sun goes down
and so does his life
and the noose tightens
while your life slowly but surly is sliping away
the curent of life is final
your next in line
dont hold up traffic
no cares about you
neather do I
hurry up so we can all dye
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem