I have been dead for seven days.

I have stolen away to greener pastures.

My family has eulogized me.

My friends have all disowned me.

There’s a box in a barn up on 10th street.

There’s a book of numbers inside.

I never made those calls.

I could have been a better man.

I should have said the right things.

Now I’m buried and gone.

Now I’m as good as I’ll ever be.