Ending To A Perfect Day.

Did you ever think
That with every hour
That goes by,
You could be the
Next to die?
They will wrap you up
In a big white sheet,
From your head to your feet,
They will bury you,
Beneath the ground,
To keep you from stirring winds,
You will hear not a sound.
You will lay still and cold,
All alone, your skin
Shall rott, your insides
Will turn to mold.
The worms will crawl in
And out of your
Stomach, and out of
Your mouth.
And then your pretty little
Eyes will fall out.
Your teeth will soon
Decay.
And that, dear,
Is the end
To a perfect day.