Dead
Hey there, cats, it’s me, Frank Sinatra. I’m sure some people might be wondering if I’m working on a new record, or if I’m planning on appearing in another movie sometime soon. Maybe you’re wondering if I’m retired. Well, folks, it’s time you heard: I ain’t in Vegas. I ain’t in Monaco. I’m dead.
Yup, ladies and germs, I’m swingin’ and croonin’ down in the ground, and it ain’t a one-night engagement. It’s a permanent show, baby. It’s a packed house, where the house is my grave and it’s packed with dirt and bugs.
If you see me these days just call me Ol’ No Eyes, ’cause my eyes got dissolved by time and decay! And then call yourself that too, because if you see me you’re dead. ’Cause I’m so dead it doesn’t even hurt, baby.
…I’m swingin’ and croonin’ down in the ground, and it ain’t a one-night engagement.
I ain’t the only dead one, guys and gals. Joey’s dead! Peter’s dead! Deano’s dead! Sammy’s dead! The only rats left in the Rat Pack are the packs of rats runnin’ around in our moldy tombs, you dig?
Let Ol’ No Eyes sing a song for you:
Ring-a-ding-dong
Ring-a-dong-ding
I can’t ding
My body is dead
I don’t know what’s happening in the news. I’m not swingin’ with any chicks. I ain’t had a martini in years, ’cause my big face is dead and not a face anymore. I’m just a skeleton lying around in a box. Suit’s there. Skeleton’s there. But my living soul sure as Sunday ain’t there, ’cause I’m dead.
Since 1998, actually.
