No Shit

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