NO SHIT

It was in the winter of my fiftieth year

When it hit me

I was realy alone

And there wasn´t a hell a lot of time left

Every laugh and touch I could get

Became more important

Strangly I became more bookish

And my home and study meant more to me

As I considered the circumstances of my death

I want to find a balance between joy and dignity

On my way out


Above all, I didn´t to take any more shit

Not from anybody


______________________ James Osterberg