I know that you all love me true
I must admit, I love me too
But at the reading of my will
I wonder if you’ll love me still
Will you see inside the hearse
The centre of your universe?
Life’s meaning for me so unclear
If life goes on when I’m not here
The morning after my demise
I wonder, will the sun still rise?
When I’m done and dusted, dead and gone
I ponder, how will life go on?
Just how vital will I be
When robbed of my vitality?
I’m asking, how will you behave?
Will there be dancing on my grave?
Lying, dying in my pain
In horror that I’ve been so vain
A question from this narcissist
When I’m gone, will I be missed?
Richmond Road 
Good one. I, too, wonder if the world will go on when I cease to exist. But not because I’m a narcissist. Because I’m a Solipsist.
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Yes. But does thought necessarily prove the existence of the thinker?
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Two thoughts: 1. I think, therefore I am; 2. The thinker is an illusion, there is only the thinking itself.
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Yes ….. I think therefore there is thought. Not that I do a lot of thinking. It hurts.
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🤔
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happy to dance on your grave as requested pops
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Somehow I knew I could rely on you.
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🙂
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Funny that I found this piece I hadn’t read yet, just today… Sometimes, I think words seek me just when they need to be read. xx
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