Don't let me die living the dream. Don't let me die doing what I love. I don't want my friends and family to get out of it so easily when finally I get rubbed. Don't let them say: "oh, you know, it's not so bad, he might've been a married man, and a loving dad, but at least he died doing what he loved." I don't want to go down like that, bruv. I want them to go down kicking and screaming - just like me. I want them to be inconsolably irretrievably wrecked due to missing me. I want them to put ashes on their heads and rip away their clothes - because I went down working at my desk, doing what I loathed.