The Late Leveller
If you can live when others all around
You die off suddenly or slowly, you
Can have the final chuckle. You are bound
To have the winning horse’s point of view.
Remember that sex bomb stunner whose height
Made you a laughingstock and whom you failed
To get to bed? Well, she became that fright
Of shrivelled, shrunken sexlessness life scaled
Down, withering her bones and wrinkling tits.
That guy who bullied you died of a heart attack
While shopping with his mistress. All those shits
Who dissed your brains—they’ve entered death’s dumb claque.
There is the other side of course, your friends
Who’ve met their doped, or pissed, or pious ends.