If There Wasn't Death, I

Life In The [london] Suburb Is Richer At The Lower Levels. At These Levels The People Are Not Self-conscious At All, They Are At Liberty To Be As Eccentric As They Please, They Do Not Know That They Are Eccentric.

Oh Lion In A Peculiar Guise, Sharp Roman Road To Paradise, Come Eat Me Up, I'll Pay Thy Toll With All My Flesh, And Keep My Soul.

Not Waving But Drowning Nobody Heard Him, The Dead Man, But Still He Lay Moaning: I Was Much Further Out Than You Thought And Not Waving But Drowning. Poor Chap, He Always Loved Larking And Now He's Dead It Must Have Been Too Cold For Him His Heart Gave Way, They Said. Oh, No No No, It Was Too Cold Always (still The Dead One Lay Moaning) I Was Much Too Far Out All My Life And Not Waving But Drowning.

My Muse Sits Forlorn She Wishes She Had Not Been Born She Sits In The Cold No Word She Says Is Ever Told.

Death's Not A Separation Or Alteration Or Parting; It's Just A One-handled Door.