Am I dead?
I can hear the birds chirp,
I don’t think I’m dead,
I can smell the flowers,
And the nuzzle of the butterfly on my nose.
But, I think I’m dead,
I can’t see the lady with headphones running who pats me,
Or the old uncle with the newspaper I want to tear,
Nor do I see kids playing with a stick and ball,
I love fetching the ball,
So, I must be really dead.
I can’t listen the horn to bark,
Or that thing that moves to chase,
I must be really dead.
Woof the fuzzy ball!
This is a-bark-solutely insane!
If I wasn’t dead already,
The silence was pawfectly in vain.