Journal of a Spaced-Out Brain

Just Thinkin'

On my simple bed I sit,
And wonder in my mind's eye,
Where my ashen corpse will fit,
When time comes for me to die.
Do my thoughts bring you woe?
I ask because I want to know.

Whose fingers shall my dust pass?
Where shall my gray cloud drift?
My questions matter as a glass,
Concerned by sunlight through a rift.
When my time on earth is through,
My true death will die with you.

For none shall be a rock nor stone,
Nor disturbance in the earth,
Nothing to tell of my flesh and bone,
Without suggestion of my birth.
I will leave this world behind,
Let soul, spirit, and life unwind.

When all the stars and rocks fade,
When energy levels dissipate,
The universe but timeless shade,
And nothingness the final state,
Memory will be the world of man,
When God is left alone again.