What Happens After We Die? Unveiling the Secrets of the Afterlife That Could Change Everything
You live for poetry and music and art
but you can’t rhyme or sing or paint for toffee.
It hardly crosses my mind how long we’ve been apart
but there’s hardly a day when I don’t think about you and me.
So, this is the message of this poem or song or painting.
Know you’re going to die when the birds won’t sing.
Make the most of a nightingale or sparrow or thrush.
‘Cos once they’re gone, there’s a dark silent rush.
