I used to play football when I was
young. But I wasn't a good player at all, I have to admit.
Now I have a better picture of the game, but really
worse lungs. So when the time comes, I will do anything to avoid climbing a
stairway. (Never mind if it's to heaven or hell) (Well, now I'm having second
thoughts, cos it seems to me that heaven is upstairs whilst hell is downstairs.
At least, so the song goes "Going down, party time / my friends are gonna be
there too // I'm on the highway to hell") [1]
So, the conclusion should be that when you have an
obstructive pulmonary disease, it's better if you go to hell, cos' it's gonna
be much easier walking down than climbing up, dude.
But I missed my point, I believe (it's not the
first time I do, and it won't be the last, for sure), so I will make tracks and
get back to the beginning of times: everybody knows at this time of year that I
can’t stand it anymore. As a castaway that sees the last piece of wood go by,
my vacation is definitely taking it’s time. Ok, I’ll pay, and be patient as
well.
Never mind the bullocks, this is my
last week, so I won’t be sad, I won’t be troubled. People look at me and say
hey, ‘ud, is that really you? Can that be fuckin’ ya’?
And I say fuck yes!, it’s me, what would you
think, ‘ud?
No, nothing, just asking.
Ok, then, see ya’ round.
See ya.
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