Tick, tick, tick, goes the clock.nThe room that you're in , room number 101, and there you are now.nnAnd you roll over on your side, and you wish that you had died, and you wish that it had happened a very long time ago.nnIt's the natural situation of pain and circumstance,nOf decisions made so very long ago for you.nWhere are you now? Dead on the ground.nnIt's the natural situation, a cancer irritation,nAnd it strikes every twelve seconds, like a metronome that never stops.nnTick, tick, tick, nothing you can do,nI remember when you said, someday you'd see me dead,nWell, where are you now? Dead on the ground.nnAnd you think back to so very long ago,nTo someone you used to know.nSomeone, her name is Anatole, and now she's lying in the ground.nAnd speaks without a sound.nnIt's the natural situation, a cancer irritation, of time, time, time,nThat just so rudely runs right out on you.nnTick, tick, tick, goes the clock.nSix A.M. and the nurse opens the door, walks up to you, nAnd all of your life, you thought you'd get away, for just one little day.nThe nurse looks down at you, nAnd this is where you come to,n24 years, just to lie in this bed,nLook up at her, so very, very closely now, and ask her just this one time,nn?WHERE AM I NOW?!nnnn