Damien Fix Died last night,
He gave up the Ghost then his Spirit took flight.
No more for him the daily grind,
The Calendar of strife that we annually find.
The Increasing Flow of Monthly Bills,
The Aches and Pains and Bottled Pills.
Those Greasy Adds to part with Cash,
For the Easy life, no hidden Catch.
Fairweather Friends that come and go,
The False impression they are wont to show.
And Female Hearts he Lost or Won,
It\'s Heads or Tails when all is done.
To plan our lives by Weathered Ways,
In Skies of Blue or Leaden Grey.
The Exalted Spirit like a Rose in Bloom,
Or Rank dispair much sunk in gloom.
But poor old Damien in his Fading breath,
When closer came the Hand of Death,
No rush for Heaven in his Thoughts it\'s true-
For these Grains of life were all he knew.