Piepin

I met a man outside today, out on my afternoon walk. And I, I, as polite as can be, decided to stop to talk. "The best of us are dying," he said. "The rest of us?" "Already dead." I didn't have time to ask him whatever on Earth he meant, because then he was gone like a shadow 'fore dawn, and I never saw him again. But to this day I stay up late, late into the night. And I wonder and wonder and ponder over what the strange man said. And each and every single time, my conclusion is quite the same. If the best of us are dying and the rest of us are dead, why am I still alive, and how long 'til I lose my head?