My dear honey,
Life isn't sunny!
I'm having no ball -
My plot size is small.
It's crowded here -
I lie buried near
So many strangers
And face dangers
Like flash flood
And suffocating mud.
I don't seek pity
But this isn't pretty,
With crawling worms
And flesh-eating germs.
Call it a theft -
I've no flesh left.
What's left of Dave Jones
Is a pile of bones.
My bones are old,
Damp and cold.
I constantly weep
In my eternal sleep.
I tell you, honey:
This isn't funny.
I beg you, dear:
Get me out of here!
