Reckless from Detour by Marlowe Dies
What does it matter where you lay once you're dead? In a stagnant lake or in a marble tower on the top of a high hill? You're dead, you're sleeping the big sleep, and you aren't bothered by anything. Oil and water are the same as wind and air to you. Oh hell… What can you do but sleep the big sleep, not caring how or why you fell?