http://nypost.com/2014/04/27/neighbor-must-pay-for-damage-caused-by-an-exploding-corpse/
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A plethora of books, a degree, when I cease to be, who will remember me? Laughter with friends, me caught in the lense, who will remember me? These thoughts in my head, gone once dead, who will remember me?
Life is a playground. We play our pleasures entrancing us the livelong day. Caught up in shallow joys we boys play with our broken toys. Our joys, fleeting give way to weeping come close of day.