"There is always somebody ready to be lured to ruin by 
hope of gain" - Sophocles
Face to face with the s-bend, head to head with every 
near end. Ill swap an error for an inch. Surely your 
forcefield has an off-switch. I keep my flags at half 
mast, but that doesent mean i think that time has passed. 
Because history repeats. Dint you recieve the call? It 
appears the gravel broke my fall. The engine burns and 
tyre marks tattooed your name across my heart. They tried 
to tell you of the crash in the hope that you might bring 
me back. But you went home and the machine would only 
beep one continuous tone. So the message never reached 
your ear. I guess I picked the wrong day, wrong week, 
wrong month, wrong year to try it on. You didnt kill me 
you cannot kill me. Because you cannot kill whats already 
dead. Remember that day? We shared my eulogy; Too close 
to seprate. And in ten years time our friends will still 
word associate our names. But you made it clear that I 
picked the wrong day, wrong week, wrong month, wrong year 
to try it on. And until you lift that lid and pull me 
from my grave, wrong day, wrong week, wrong month, wrong 
year. And I feel short changed.