I guess it don't matter where you die.
A man can die in filth,
or he can die in a nice warm bed with silk sheets.
They say when you go, you mess yourself.
There's such heartache in it all.
I don't know why I keep thinking about it.
I guess I've seen too much stuff.
It hurts my heart.
There's so much to see in life.
Joy and sadness.
Love and hate.
There's so much to feel.
It overloads my mind sometimes.
I won't cry in front of other men.
But I do cry.
I cry for all of us.
There are no happy endings.
What is lovely are the memories.
The good ones anyway.
Make good memories.
So that when you are on your way,
You can smile that day.