If I was dead, I’d be simply gone.

I wouldn’t be quite missed or loved and lost,

I’m sure they’ll only think of the costs,

of me lying on my deathbed,

the musician in me wants a song,

but I know I don’t have far too long.

A poem will suffice because a mark will be left.

Just remember, I’m a soul only wrecked,

a soul no one would bother to stoop,

a soul no one would bother to create yet another Dead Musicians’ Support Group.

If I was dead, I’d simply be gone.

I wouldn’t be missed because no one cares,

and it’s not my music that blares.

I’d simply be gone,

even though my life

was not that long.