The Last Days

Iím writing you this from the last daysÖ
The last days I will; the last days I might;
Iím sending you this from the past rays,
Of a sun slowly setting, if not out of sight.

Iím telling you this in the old ways;
The old ways I used to, when we were alive;
Iím struggling to tell you, as always,
That most things worth having turn out to be lies.

Iím trusting youíll decipher my message,
From a farmer of fortunes, a doctor of dreams;
Iím rustling and bustling to presage,
How an unholy reaper is not what he seems.

Iím writing you this as a star-gaze,
Of a united clan, a unicorn in flight;
Iím sending you this through a strange haze,
My unbridled ťlan, my celestial kite.

Iím telling you this so you realise,
As the years turn to yeast and the turtles whiz by;
Iím struggling to tell you, as always,
That behind the disguise lies a lovable guy.




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