Oh, thinkin bout my deathbed again.
Please lord keep me doped up and all that, amen
Thinkin bout my deathbed again.
But this time, I'm thinking about pulling the ketamine card. Cause I'm betting you're at least partially as tortured as me at the thought of a loved one facing death with fear. And you love me, right? So I'll make a case, should be easy. But if it isn't, I'll push it, do what I have to, drive the news cycle, blog an editorial, take it viral, kickstart 'er. No prayer for the dying, but yes, K, for the dying. Animal anesthetics are the most humane. I'll take a bottomless supply to the grave and that's a demand, I'll hold myself hostage, my fragile spirit, so important in the final act, this is what I call dignity, whatever it looks like to you.
They're using K for depression, clinical trials show that it's effective, duh, I could have told them that. My mistake was jumping the gun and doing it too early, like the kid opening his Christmas presents before it's time, they phase into coal past the fossil fuel paradigm, in real-time as the forbidden opening takes place and the wrapping's torn, it's a rip-off, oh, such a rip-off. It's wrong to do it before you're ready to die, which is why it had that black mass weight for me, which was extra cool, but wore out its welcome. Gotta wait until the wearing out paradigm, lubricate the slide, the deathbed tilt, become a drop of awareness in the black sea, the always already pre-ception ocean, where I seem to have never been born, seem to see and be families across universes, never quite find a way to paint a new existence onto the bright white basement wall, but I conceive of consciousness without a body, because that's what I need on my deathbed, a conception at least, if not certainty, in fact, I don't believe in certainty, my god is mystery, nonetheless, I'm trying to stay godless as I'm thinkin bout my deathbed again.