Ray St. Ray

Every calendar has one last page.
Someday that page will be torn.
There’s a bill that everyone must pay.
It’s the price of being born.
Doesn’t matter who your parents were.
Forget your fortune and your fame.
Everybody gets what they deserve.
In the end it’s all the same.
Any minute, maybe tomorrow or another year or two
you’ll run out of time to borrow. That’s when your final payment’s due.
You can run but you can’t run away
but it wouldn’t hurt to try.
Live it up! You know you’re gonna pay.
When you see the check you’ll die.
Is it real? Is it dreaming? Is it amusing or a trial?
Will you go down kicking and screaming or will you face it with a smile?
Every birth begets a funeral.
Time is only here to kill
so you shouldn’t take this personal.
I’m just collecting on a bill.

©1996, 2025