some to chose from: *i cant decide for shit* It is so soon that I am done for, I wonder what I was begun for. She tasted of life's bitter cup, refused to drink the potion up; she turned her little head aside, disgusted with the task and died. Love not me for comely grace, for my pleasing eye or face, nor for any outward part, no, nor for a constant heart. Que scais-je? *what do i know* Dum tacent, clamant. *though silent, they cry aloud.* We have buried the putrid corpse of liberty.
oh, and i want my coffin on a rotisserie-kinda thing in my grave, so that people can turn a crank and flip me over.
I'd have that rhyme on my tombstone... I was here but now I'm gone, I've left my name to carry on, those who knew me knew me well, those who didn't can go to hell.