In my sweet and dreary sorrow
I strongly wish that come tomorrow
I'll have no soul left to borrow
In my pitiful attempted living
the Void seemed to be forgiving
I've lost my very last misgiving
In my wake instead of sleep
I only had to take a leap
turn body to a lifeless heap
In my last and final hour
I hold a glass of whisky sour
I'm not patient yet very dour
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