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") 
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.