It's in remission they say, 

Like the poison from your pen, 

I can feel it spread, 

But the gypsy said, 

I would live until 92,

Or was it 93?,

How that makes me laugh now, 

But they won't let me make a will, 

Or even a funeral plan, 

So I tell my friends, 

Lavendar I want, 

Lavendar lemonade, 

Served in beautiful glasses, 

I want people to be happy, 

I want the songs of U2 to play,

I want God to forgive me 

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