grateful to be dead

it's about time to ask the question,
trying to understand my next life lesson
before the night gets too dark and cold and damn,
i can't remember who i was or who i am.
so, there's plenty of fear and nerves and grief;
i can't seem to get enough relief,
flipping through and turning each page
while reading about the days of constant rage
with young blood on the school room floor.
well, no uniform needed to fight the next war?
but, hey, there's the national song!
i wonder if those lyrics are simply wrong?
i'm getting so old,
feeling tired and bought and sold,
walking away from the bull without a fight:
tell me what is it we all agree is right?
i'm dancing wearing pearls with a drink in hand,
grateful to be dead, listening to that passing band.
this glass half full that i'm holding high
it's filled with tears; i'm no longer wondering why.
just one more for the broken road.
my head stays high while my back is bowed!
it's about time to ask the question,
trying to understand my next life lesson
before the night gets too dark and cold and damn,
i can't remember who i was or who i am.