O grim Lord, why art thou so blue?
O grim Lord, why art thou so sombre, so serious, so blue?
Death comes to everybody, even the very few.
You have the honour to harp-sung heroes meet,
Who will all one day fall down flat at your feet.
Doesn't it fill your heart with pride?
To cut down such great men in their prime.
And other lesser souls, who have often sighed,
At being cheated of even a dime.
Must you not be glad to end their misery?
And bring a curtain to the mean horizon of what little they see.
Birth is agony, life is woe;
What more is there, else to know ?
In the "fields of rape" our souls are sown,
Into what portion am I henceforth blown ?
Of course I am only kidding in what I say,
Haven't you heard of the man named Aubrey De Grey ?
You should enjoy it while you can, you see,
The day is coming when Man shall achieve Immortality.
O grim Lord, I know why thou art so sombre, so serious, so blue.
Death comes to everybody - even to you too!