Sickly looking and slowly decaying away,
sleeping away life and about it lie,
not much left that’s worth doing left to do,
but fade far away and alone slowly die.
Nobody really cares very much,
though they say they really do,
only if it’s very very convenient,
will your friends lend a hand to you.
Good times are there for them to be had,
they can not be cheaply or easily distracted,
until you’re long dead and very very gone,
your absence won’t be noticed or unwanted.
dead beat poet 