As the Vultures Circle-Those Who Lie Beneath

Knowing you are going to die Is a hard thing accepted at first. Laying in a pool of your own f**king blood As the vultures circle over your f**king head... With a bullet in your gut. This is a slow and painful death. Millions of things run through your mind. Too many ＂what ifs?＂ to count. As I lay in a pool of a blood, I can＇t help but think, Will I be remembered? The answer is; probably not. I try to make it to my feet to no prevail. EVERYTHING IS GOING BLACK. EVERYTHING IS GOING BLACK. I think I have died only to wake up As if this is some sort of sick f**king joke. This is not a dream, still bleeding. Still filled with all of this pain. TRYING TO MOVE TO MY FEET, I DO NOT PREVAIL. I watch as the vultures circle over my head. Life blurs as I try to make things out. Yelling will do me no good, So I lay and wait for f**king death. I watch as the vultures circle over my head. Yelling will do me no good, so I lay and wait for death. As I lay in a pool of blood, I can＇t help but think, Will I be remembered? The answer is; probably not. I try to make it to my feet; I do not prevail. Life blurs as I try to make everything out. Yelling will do me no f**king good, So I lay and wait for death. When I die, will I go anywhere? Or am I doomed to sit and f**king rot?