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I want to be part of the Grateful Dead,

Who have seen the ways of life and now rest their head,

In a mattress of soil and a duvet of worms,

And a pillow of decay that'd make your stomach turn,

It's not that I don't enjoy life,

It's more that I am scared,

As this pain that I've felt so far,

Is more than most have shared.

And to know that I have even more to come yet,

Just makes me shiver and break down,

Into a crying, cold sweat.

I want to be part of the Grateful Dead,

Who have no fears or worries as they've lived their lives to the end,

They don't need to worry about the passing of a friend,

Or the pain of a heartbreak,

As it's all been and said.

I don't want to die,

Just don't like the wait,

The wait for the pain,

The wait for the insane,

Insane feelings that will eat me shortly,

And will devour me like a snake,

Devouring a mouse with its poisonous fangs,

And numbing it with pain before taking it in wholly grand,

And pulping it down until there's no feeling.

I suppose the mouse is part of the Grateful Dead,

The ones that have lived and now rest their head,

The ones that know the secrets and have made it through the maze,

The maze we call life that leaves us insane.

Until the day I join them,

I'll try to be strong,

I'll try to take the pain and carry going along,

The meandering path towards the home of the Grateful Dead,

When it will be my turn to lie and rest my heavy, tired head.

It will be my turn to discover the secrets,

To understand what happened,

And why?

But until then, Grateful Dead,

I promise,

I'll try.