NDE

He used to sit aside the road
In his blue-white-red Buick
On his backseat he held a toad
And under legs a wooden stick

He sit like that for many years
Smokin' filthy cigarettes
Lookin' at the passing life
Thinking about nothing, just

Listenin' to what crickles near,
Waitin' for what was yet to come

N.D.E.!

One night, it was about eleven
He got outside that car
Went to some bushes to do what he needed
When he heard such a strange noise

He turned his body right away
And in a dirty moon glow light
He saw this truck, he couldn't say
He just stayed there and he cried

"It could've been me, it could've been me!
It should've been me, it should've been me."

N.D.E.!

His Buick lied there cracked in halves
Engine smoke mixing with haze
The truck which crashed burning slow
And the driver screaming loud

"You bastard, why'd you park right here?
Why didn't you sit in car?
Why do I have to burn alone?
And why do you just stand and cry?"

Then the driver cut his crap
With a very nasty sound
And his soul passed away
And his body turned to ash

So our hero went back home
And prepared himself a rope
Hanged himself in the living room
For the lack of any hope

N.D.E.!