It's all downhill From here, old man. Auf wiedersehen. Two steps forward, Six feet underground. Standing O, Take a bow. Lab coats, Machines And all the chemotherapy Don't seem To me An answer to these tears you long to see. So i ain't crying no more. I'd pull out the plug If i could muster up the love. No one wants memories of Skid marks Pants pissed. Jim Beam, Mary Jane. Wherefore art thou Kevorkian? No way, Jose, It's not for me This life spent basking in you agony. Give me the longest walks. Prescribe for me the shortest piers. I ain't going out like that. No way, not me, I'd rather die And as I stood there by his bed, Bowls of Jell-O, crusts of bread, Stared straight into his eyes And I wanted him to die. And I felt the shame Of such, such naiveté That someone young, That someone dumb, Someone my age Could feel so callously To want to piss in the fountains of youth, To dance all night on the graves of the dead, To want to tear those pink ribbons to shreds. And as he lay there in his bed, 80 pounds, half dead, He said, "Bink, please hold my hand… I don' think that you understand… Oh, puneta, I've done all that I can And I don't want to die." You're gonna die You're gonna die. You're gonna.