作词 : Pop
It was in the winter of my fiftieth year
When it hit me, 
I was really alone
And there wasn't a hell a lot of time left
Every laugh and touch that 
I could get
Became more important
Strangely, 
I became more bookish
And my home and study meant more to me
As I considered the circumstances of my death
I wanted to find a balance between joy and dignity
On my way out
Above all, 
I didn't want to take any more shit
Not from anybody