He did not live and so he could not die,
And everything he'd done was like a dream
He met the world with nothing but a sigh,
As though his whole life had run out of steam.
And she did little to make matters worse,
She swore a bit and wore a purple dress,
Occasionally she'd open up her purse,
And try to cheer him up with her caress.
The pair of them they liked a little drink,
They'd pass the evenings watching the TV,
And try to never have to really think,
About the way the human race could be.
"If every day is numbered, till you die...
Then what's the point to ever even try?"