I got a letter in the mail today
Saying my future self had passed away
It was post-marked the year 2081
I guess I’m making it past thirty-one.
I guess I get 5 more decades
Of hanging out and having fun
I wonder if my friends are still around
And whose robot bodies put me in the ground.
Did I go peacefully and quietly?
Was my wife at my bedside
As I drifted off to sleep?
Is that a drop of her saliva on the stamp?
On the holographic robot future stamp?
Oh, what a gift to know when I’m gonna kick
I can spend my next few birthdays
Getting high on hover-bikes
Life is flirty when you’re thirty what about at ninety-six?
I’ll have stories for the robots and my cybernetic kids.