When walking down the street
tripping over my own feet
I might fall in front of a bus
and if I must I must
Or I could walk out onto a field
admiring the farmers yield
A Bull might decide to charge
might kill me like a falling star
I worry not at all
of Death's Angel making a call
For I will pick the phone right up
I won't whine, kick, or claw
For when you have to go
it does not matter what you show
For it is how you lived
the position it is going to give
If wings or tail
I won't treat as a jail
I will take it all in stride
for a new adventure I will ride.