Verse 1: Can I help you?
Yes, I need a time machine, to go back to the Holocene
I’ll make some course corrections so I’m different when we reconvene
Barring that, my next request regards a lease whose term is nigh
On life, and I prefer the month-to-month, lest I’m dissatisfied
Verse 2: Do you have any questions?
Temptation to intemperance, must I be so degenerate?
I live a life of luxury but wonder what’s the point of it?
Question two: the sky, why blue? And why am I of the same hue?
I’ve tried to change my tone, yet every time the shade returns anew
My Last Will and Last Inquiry: why is there just one of me? A frozen clone encased in ice would be the safest policy.
Verse 3: Will that be all?
Precisely what I want to know, ‘cause 80 years seems shorter now
Than when my child’s mind first caught a glimpse of my own finish line
And though reports are widely mixed, I suspect that past it lies a cliff
Or worse, that I’d prefer the void to what awaits across the Styx