REST IN PEACE

By Alberto Juárez Espíndola

I was thinking about dead,
it makes me happy,
‘cause it’s a beautiful dead.
And every day I think about it,
I understand it would be here.

It might be in my room, it might not,
but I’d like to go with it.
Maybe tomorrow, maybe next year,
the mighty dead would meet me.

I’m a soul with pain.
I’ve remorse, I’ve repent.
I want to be peaceful in my grave.
But now the dead don’t care about me.
I think it’s too late to go away.