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.