21 years and then they all gather round,
To bid me farewell, as I go to the ground.
One will stand up and speak of me kind,
Nobody considers that I might mind.
Remember the good times, don’t let them go,
But remember the real me, so long ago.
I wasn’t perfect, remember that I,
Had all my flaws on the day that I die.
Depict me true, say all that is real,
Propaganda neglect, despite the appeal.
You know who I was, don’t try to pretend,
That I was anything more when I meet my end.
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