Pass me the shovel homie,
I'm diggin up a hole,
Pass me the shovel homie,
I'm diggin up a hole,

Deeper, I'm diggin myself in deeper,
I see no light, all I see is myself and the grim reeper,
He's hooded, hands are blooded and he's giving me the axe,
I asked him, why didnt he come sooner, maybe I cudda relaxed,
He laughed, haunted, his boney face - gaunted,
He flaunted his skelli-hands and grunted,
He told me, "I have to wait until no life exists"
I told him, if he came sooner, no doubt, I wouldnt resist.
But he laughed again, cold, chilling yet soothing to the soul,
Told me out of all of em, I reached no potential goal,
I asked him why, he said other people found their ground,
I told him to look around, what was there to be found?
He said "Depression, Kid, can be overcome at its worst"
So I asked him, I said, "then why was I the one cursed?"
He said, "Kid, its over now, is there anything you regret?"
I told him, I said, "I just wish, I hadnt jumped the rope yet"
He looked at me from under the hooded cloak,
Told me, "listen kid, you got yerself into a situation, u felt broke,"
I fell backwards as the axe hit my chest,
I felt hazy, the death giving me my rest,
Its over now, this depression has killed me slowly,
Theres no impression to leave, just what the grim told me.


Next - orgasm

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