My angel keeps rescheduling
My death and then forgetting
To tell me about it
We dance around the very idea
That it matters in the least
If I show up that day or not
Or postpone it yet again
The appointment will be kept
All that's left to be done
Will have to wait in line
While they scan my passport
Ask me where I was born
And the purpose of my visit
As the secret service arrives
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