If I were told that I have died or that I haven't been born, I wouldn't stop thinking about it.

I can't believe I'm still here,
I know I should be dead.

I kind of feel like Old Darko died. Like, when I think about myself, or myself when I was playing, I feel like I’m sort of thinking about someone who is dead.

Or may-be one who is puzzled at me.
As if I were not puzzled at myself!

I had always wondered what it felt like to die.

And when I'm lying in my bed, I think about life and I think about death.
And neither one particularly appeals to me.

Death is a life of questions
that are being buried,
and one ends always
with doubt tangled in the lips.

I simply wondered about the dead because their days had ended and I did not know how I would get through mine.

Perched up high on a rooftop,
like a bird I'm having evil thoughts,
A black hood covers my face
as death flows through my mind at its own pace.

I have become a question to myself.

My thoughts are crowded with death
and it draws so oddly on the sexual
that I am confused
confused to be attracted
by, in effect, my own annihilation.

Yeah, especially this postmortem trip when people die and then everybody writes about what they felt that person is going through. It's really surprising to me that anyone can think that they have those kinds of insights or spend that much time really worrying about somebody else. I think they should spend more time trying to figure out who they are. That's my whole trip. I can't imagine anybody knowing me through my lyrics, because I don't particularly feel like I know myself. And I have more than the benefit of just lyrics to go on.

Thinking about death’s a funny thing. Stupid. Like wondering where you were before you were born.

Sometimes I don't know whether I'm real or whether I'm a character in one of my novels.