I have a contract

with death and I 

signed away my life 

when I was born.


But the terms of

this contract are hidden

and I know not when

this agreement will be up.


For some the contract

terms are up early 

and death takes what

death is entitled to take.


For others death waits

patiently, teasingly, for the 

wrinkles to form and then

the slow descent to Sheol.


There is no getting out of

this contract, even if god 

as the grand lawyer tries to

argue the best damn case.


So, live within this contract

I must, and I have no choice

for it has been served and 

and it is as binding as birth.


Though death has its right

over my final demise, I will,

nevertheless, live this life as if

the contract does not matter at all.