This is a very rock and roll way to go in the 21st century, as most rock stars turn to farming or gardening once they have made their pile. But people of our generation will always hanker after the glamourous way to go, as written about by Roger McGough in the sixties in his poem “Let Me Die a Youngman’s Death”, of which these are the first and last verses:
Let me die a youngman’s death not a clean and inbetween the sheets holywater death not a famous-last-words peaceful out of breath death Let me die a youngman’s death Not a free from sin tiptoe in Candlewax and waning death Not a curtains drawn by angels borne ‘what a nice way to go death’
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