Once you're dead you're made for life.

A broom is drearily sweeping, up the broken peices of yesterdays life. Somewhere a queen is weeping, Somewhere a king has no wife, And the wind cries Mary.

I'm the one that's got to die when it's time for me to die, so let me live my life the way I want to.

It's funny how most people love the dead, once you're dead you're made for life.

The story of life is quicker then the blink of an eye, the story of love is hello, goodbye.

He'd been listening to black music all his life,