Today is the first day of Spring
In the year two thousand nineteen
A year I truly never thought I'd live to see
Truth be told, I'm not entirely convinced
That this is not actually a dream
A projection of some sort
That my mind has created
To sooth my soul as I lie on my death bed
Brought to my end by the rifle
That was shoved in my face when I was fifteen
Or by the cold ocean waters
Of the Gulf of Alaska when I fell overboard
Maybe it was the first drunk driver that hit me
Or maybe it was the second
I suppose either one could have done it
Many, many times it seems
I have eluded the grasp of Abaddon
...or have I?
Truth be told, I'm not entirely convinced
That this is not actually a dream
A projection of some sort
That my mind has created
To sooth my soul as I lie on my death bed
Brought to my end by the rifle
That was shoved in my face when I was fifteen
Or by the cold ocean waters
Of the Gulf of Alaska when I fell overboard
Maybe it was the first drunk driver that hit me
Or maybe it was the second
I suppose either one could have done it
Many, many times it seems
I have eluded the grasp of Abaddon
...or have I?
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