"I'm not ready for the grave yet", de B. Fleischmann

"I'm not ready for the grave yet",
said future, and had a cigarette, 
because my parents and grandparents
are still looking at needles... right?

"I'm not ready for the grave yet",
said the color, 
even if black and white are 
to start the painting of the world.

"I'm not ready for the grave yet",
said human, 
even if my enemy, the choke,
tries to hold me in the cellar. 

"I'm not ready for the grave yet",
said the song of hope, 
even if I'm tired 
of carrying my brothers and sisters.

"I'm not ready for the grave yet",
said the human race, 
as long as I keep my killing, 
I'm alive.

"I'm not ready for the grave yet",
said self-pity, 
and had another 
full glass.


"I'm not ready for the grave yet",
said greed.
(I am betting so well
I hope I won't burst 
like the 'dot com' bubble!)

"I'm not ready for the grave yet",
said the song of hope, 
and was downloaded 
by the 99% of the true fans.

"I'm not ready for the grave yet",
said the books, 
letters and papers, 
impatient like people's anger;

"I'm not ready for the grave yet",
said human, between the stories;

"I'm not ready for the grave yet",
said crisis, 
because there are new ideas
that could harm me


"I'm not ready for the grave yet",
said history, 
I'm alive, everyday!

"I'm not ready for the grave yet",
said history, 
I'm alive, everyday!

"I'm not ready for the grave yet",
said history, 
I'm alive, everyday!

"I'm not ready for the grave yet",
said history, 
I'm alive, everyday!


"I'm not ready for the grave yet",
said hope (that's the spirit!)
— and it was blowing in the wind.