Here I thought Death and I
had an understanding, Brian,
when I paid a nice visit a while back,
the first real vacation I had in years.
We parted on friendly terms
because I still had things to do,
like hang out with you and your posse
and lend a hand helping out
the hurtingest folks around.
I was totally down with our understanding
I’d be coming back to stay one day
when my deeds were done.
Man, though, what’s up with this,
you taking off right in the middle
of the game for the championship?
Whose idea was this, anyway?
Not yours I’m sure. So, Death and I,
we need to have a talk.
Us, you left behind, heads and hearts
spinning crazy, we’ll get it together
and do what we got to do,
without your glowing and singing company.
We always do, when a key player is down for the count.
Still, Big Guy, we don’t have to like it. At all.
Don’t think for a minute we’ll forget,
and count on it, you come pay us a visit
when you start finding the company of angels
a little boring, and you know for sure
we’ll be on the lookout, wanting to hear
the straight skinny from where you’re at.
But hey, one last favor we’ll ask of you,
because you were always our best salesman
and story-teller: Please tell Death for us,
as far as we’re concerned, your number
was not up, no matter what the wannabe
wise guys in fancy robes might try to sell us.
All I can think is
Death misread the calendar, I do that a lot,
or else was having a really, really bad day,
and forgot what time it was.
Not your time. No way.