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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=340583" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Death to all.... Have fun!</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=340583" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I heard a song the other day; it strummed<br>A chord within, this way: The lyrics sung<br>Expressed that we convey a summed<br>Philosophy: Our days are numbered, son.<br>We're born to die and there's no warning light.<br>This is our fate, our expiration date.<br>So live your life as though your deaths tonight<br>The fullest that money can buy this late.<br>Tomorrow the sorrow of death might come<br>Despite being old or young. Beat the drum<br>And dance. Have fun! Laugh and sing, don't be glum.<br>We'll celebrate, it's never too late, hon<br>The parties begun, be not a mourner<br>Grim-reapers peeking around the corner.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Albert+Ahearn">Albert Ahearn</a></strong></div>

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