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When I Die
Sometimes when I sleep at night,
I dream of the death of me;
The smiles on people's face,
How happy they would be.
For surely they'll be happy,
When they see I'm dead.
They'll laugh in pure ecstacy,
As they head off to bed
For what reason would they have,
To be anything but glad?
There is not one;
No reason to be sad.
