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Sitting in my coffin
I'm just sitting in my coffin.
I forgot my cold tea on the table.
I'm six feet under on the second floor.
Untidy little coffin. Untidy leaking brain.
My ear is itching on the inside.
Must be the worms.
I can move my fingers still.
That's fine, I don't need them.
I'm just sitting in my coffin.
