Abstract Decay

I'm dead. Wake up, get lead. Is what my mind say's, but instead. I roll over and play with some bread. It's stale been soaking in ale, but I like to get drunk so eat it, then tales, just spin of my tongue, although it try's not to run, these days the battles been won. But me, still in a slump, no music just chumps of my past figurines collecting dust in the dump. So let's prepare it's been done, my path is the sun, I rise and set like everyone.