Rate of Decay by spOOn
From the new born baby to the skull on a stick
Our rate of decay is pretty much fixed
Nobody gets younger, everybody gets sick
And the good times you remember are just gaps in the shit
The certainty of life is we all get old
'cause our rate of decay is pretty much foretold
And what we leave behind is just so much wasted time
And its been that way since we crawled out of the slime
Its the rate of decay that gets in the way
Of everything that you do or say
Its the rate of decay of your life of your mind
'cause the rate of decay is the law of time
Everytime you drink a beer or smoke a cigarette
Your rate of decay is increased by x percent
So don't do drugs or shag around
Have a miserable life and end up in the ground
From the sensitive seduction to another fake orgasm
The rate of decay is built into creation
You lie in a box in a hole in the ground
The worms come and get you and that's not too profound
Its the rate of decay that gets in the way
Of everything that you do or say
Its the rate of decay of your life of your mind
'cause the rate of decay is the law of time
There's no way to escape it
No drugs can prevent it
No way to prevent it
So you might as well face it
Rate of Decay
-
Nigel (spOOn) Clements
- Goldman
- Posts: 520
- Joined: Mon Jan 30, 2006 6:17 am
- Instruments: None... But I use Reason 3.0, an iAxe 624 and an old beaten up acoustic, and sometimes I hit things.
- Recording Method: Reason 3.0, Magix Audio Studio 11 Deluxe, Samson C01U USB Studio Condenser Microphone.
- Submitting as: Nigel Clements, Accessory Twelve, @eclectic spOOns, Cynthia Size
- Location: Spectrum HQ, Cloudbase.
- Contact:
-
rone rivendale
- Odie
- Posts: 1761
- Joined: Sun Oct 02, 2005 9:51 pm
- Instruments: Electronica, nothing real
- Recording Method: Fruity Loops, Goldwave
- Submitting as: Rone Rivendale
- Pronouns: he/him
- Location: Kansas, USA
- Contact:
OMG is it true? Yes! Rone is back!
The rate of decay
It's here to stay
Your style is wack
Flavor Flav wants his raps back
Nowhere to hide
I've hurt your pride
It's time to run
Cause I've got your number son
You tried to win
But that was a sin
You aren't worth it
I popped you like a zit
You better shut up
You are stuck up
If you think you're cool
Then you are the biggest fool
The rate of decay
You suck so go away
Step up you newbie
You're such a groupie
Copying my rhymes
Tryin to get to the big time
You won't go far
You're not the star
I'll bury you fast
Gonna pwn all over your ass
You're worse with each line
Oh look at the time
I grab the mic
It's time for a ground strike
They're cheering me on
You look like a pawn
I am the King
And I don't even need bling
The rate of decay
You suck so go away
The rate of decay
It's here to stay
Your style is wack
Flavor Flav wants his raps back
Nowhere to hide
I've hurt your pride
It's time to run
Cause I've got your number son
The rate of decay
You suck so go away
The rate of decay
It's here to stay
Your style is wack
Flavor Flav wants his raps back
Nowhere to hide
I've hurt your pride
It's time to run
Cause I've got your number son
You tried to win
But that was a sin
You aren't worth it
I popped you like a zit
You better shut up
You are stuck up
If you think you're cool
Then you are the biggest fool
The rate of decay
You suck so go away
Step up you newbie
You're such a groupie
Copying my rhymes
Tryin to get to the big time
You won't go far
You're not the star
I'll bury you fast
Gonna pwn all over your ass
You're worse with each line
Oh look at the time
I grab the mic
It's time for a ground strike
They're cheering me on
You look like a pawn
I am the King
And I don't even need bling
The rate of decay
You suck so go away
The rate of decay
It's here to stay
Your style is wack
Flavor Flav wants his raps back
Nowhere to hide
I've hurt your pride
It's time to run
Cause I've got your number son
The rate of decay
You suck so go away
From spoken word to actual singing, I can screw up any style with style. 
-
Middlemarch
- Karski
- Posts: 95
- Joined: Mon Feb 27, 2006 10:18 pm
- Location: Northern New York-west of the Hudson and north of everything (except Canada-and those other places)
- Contact:
Rate of Decay
G. Williker (Middlemarch)
My life ain’t nothing, she says
My life ain’t nothing to look forward to
I’m dying, no one understands me, she says
I’m dying, and it’s all because of you
My life sucks, might as well speed this up
My heart is black, and I don’t even care anymore
I am the only one who’s ever felt this bad
I am the only one who’s ever wished they were dead
She’s wearing all black
Every day’s a funeral
She’s tearing a hole in herself
At this rate of decay, you’ll be dead in a week
We’re all dying inside from something
There’s nothing special about you
And that’s what makes you special
Write it down, there’s power in pen and ink
Then get out, you’ve got too much time to think
We’re all dying, don’t you think we’re all bruised and cut?
We’re all dying, there’s no need to speed it up
You’re spinning too fast
You’re flying right past
All the good stuff, all the good stuff, yeah
At this rate of decay, you’ll be dead in a week
We’re all dying inside from something
There’s nothing special about you
And that’s what makes you special
You don’t drink, you don’t smoke
But that attitude will make you real old, real quick
What’s your half-life? What’s your half-life?
What’s your rate of decay? Is it a good life?
G. Williker (Middlemarch)
My life ain’t nothing, she says
My life ain’t nothing to look forward to
I’m dying, no one understands me, she says
I’m dying, and it’s all because of you
My life sucks, might as well speed this up
My heart is black, and I don’t even care anymore
I am the only one who’s ever felt this bad
I am the only one who’s ever wished they were dead
She’s wearing all black
Every day’s a funeral
She’s tearing a hole in herself
At this rate of decay, you’ll be dead in a week
We’re all dying inside from something
There’s nothing special about you
And that’s what makes you special
Write it down, there’s power in pen and ink
Then get out, you’ve got too much time to think
We’re all dying, don’t you think we’re all bruised and cut?
We’re all dying, there’s no need to speed it up
You’re spinning too fast
You’re flying right past
All the good stuff, all the good stuff, yeah
At this rate of decay, you’ll be dead in a week
We’re all dying inside from something
There’s nothing special about you
And that’s what makes you special
You don’t drink, you don’t smoke
But that attitude will make you real old, real quick
What’s your half-life? What’s your half-life?
What’s your rate of decay? Is it a good life?
<i>"you kind of sound like Oscar the Grouch" -- Feldspar
"sounds like church camp stuff" -- Tricia </i>
<a href="http://www.nowhereradio.com/artists/alb ... id=1503">G. Williker at Nowhere Radio</a>
"sounds like church camp stuff" -- Tricia </i>
<a href="http://www.nowhereradio.com/artists/alb ... id=1503">G. Williker at Nowhere Radio</a>
RATE OF DECAY by Melvin
I’m the grim reaper, killer beat keeper
Lyrics like sharp sticks poke you in the peeper
Grand architect with a devastating power
Push you to the ground like a crooked faulty tower
You know, some folks just consider me death
But in retrospect, most consider me blessed
Count my votes from all the residents
And say, “Damn, I could become president!â€
I’m the grim reaper, killer beat keeper
Lyrics like sharp sticks poke you in the peeper
Grand architect with a devastating power
Push you to the ground like a crooked faulty tower
You know, some folks just consider me death
But in retrospect, most consider me blessed
Count my votes from all the residents
And say, “Damn, I could become president!â€
hi!
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Steve Durand
- Orwell
- Posts: 779
- Joined: Fri Apr 01, 2005 1:26 pm
- Instruments: trumpet, trombone, sax, clarinet, flute, keyboards, banjo, guitar, bass, ukulele
- Recording Method: SONAR 6, Dell Inspiron E1705, Edirol UA-25, Studio Projects B-1 Mic
- Submitting as: Steve Durand, Elastic Waste Band
- Location: Anaheim, CA
Rate Of Decay
By Steve Durand
Wayward planets pulled in by gravity
Fall into orbit 'round the sun
Order to disorder is the way it will be
As all the structure comes undone
Each revolution altitude will degrade
And they'll slowly spiral down
There's no escaping the rate of decay
The cosmic clockwork winding down
The essence
Of the universe
Senescence
Rebirth
Our existence is an entangled state
It's of star stuff we are made
Dark matter will determine our fate
Bring us together once again
The essence
Of the universe
Senescence
Rebirth
Entropy will not win out at the last
For it's in chaos that we thrive
Once compressed into a critical mass
We'll come blazing back to life
The essence
Of the universe
Senescence
Rebirth
By Steve Durand
Wayward planets pulled in by gravity
Fall into orbit 'round the sun
Order to disorder is the way it will be
As all the structure comes undone
Each revolution altitude will degrade
And they'll slowly spiral down
There's no escaping the rate of decay
The cosmic clockwork winding down
The essence
Of the universe
Senescence
Rebirth
Our existence is an entangled state
It's of star stuff we are made
Dark matter will determine our fate
Bring us together once again
The essence
Of the universe
Senescence
Rebirth
Entropy will not win out at the last
For it's in chaos that we thrive
Once compressed into a critical mass
We'll come blazing back to life
The essence
Of the universe
Senescence
Rebirth
"Writing about music is like dancing about architecture" -Unknown
"Seems to me this is the point of Songfight" - Max The Cat
"Seems to me this is the point of Songfight" - Max The Cat
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j$
- Ibárruri
- Posts: 5374
- Joined: Sat Sep 25, 2004 11:33 am
- Instruments: Bass, keyboards, singin', guitar
- Submitting as: Johnny Cashpoint
- Location: London, Engerllaaannnddd
- Contact:
Rate of Decay
Johnny Cashpoint's Space Pub
No, I don't love you any more
(I never loved you anyway)
We're counting down to splitting up
(We're counting out rate of decay)
We know it now, we can't pretend
(We started as we mean to end)
At speed of hate, rate of decay
(Now win this race, just run away)
When every single passing day
(Accelerates rate of decay)
Weve got some growing up to do
(We've grown apart, I've outgrown you)
Just grow up ....
We can't deny rate of decay
(This half-life blows us both away)
This comfort that we're counting on
(It don't exist, we can't go on)
Johnny Cashpoint's Space Pub
No, I don't love you any more
(I never loved you anyway)
We're counting down to splitting up
(We're counting out rate of decay)
We know it now, we can't pretend
(We started as we mean to end)
At speed of hate, rate of decay
(Now win this race, just run away)
When every single passing day
(Accelerates rate of decay)
Weve got some growing up to do
(We've grown apart, I've outgrown you)
Just grow up ....
We can't deny rate of decay
(This half-life blows us both away)
This comfort that we're counting on
(It don't exist, we can't go on)
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Smalltown Mike
- Goldman
- Posts: 568
- Joined: Fri Mar 11, 2005 11:49 am
- Submitting as: shrts, Sewer Ppl, Flaming Tiger, shrts, shot pounder, Gert, Slither, Gaping Maw
- Pronouns: he/him
- Location: Toronto
Rate of Decay, Smalltown Mike with the Ill Cricket Crew's Dane.
It’s not the death but the rate of decay
that concerns me—I can hear them calling my name
You could be the
Last cricket standing—you play your cards right
Keep on recycling the rhymes and lines you write
Keep on pretending this is real life, every night
And come and rock the mic like dynamite
Four lines four takes over disco breaks
Exaggerate the stakes—Yo, I’m great, I’m great
I’m so and so, I’m this, I’m that.
(But they all just wick wick wack)
I bet you got a fat stack in your record rack
add ‘em up it’s the friends you lack
Realize that they’re dropping like flies
Another lines up once the last mime dies
Everyone is dying to be like you—
It’s not the death but the rate of decay that
concerns me.
Everyone is dying to be like you—
It’s not the death but the rate of decay—
They call my name.
You keep your heart cold in a paper bag
While the dead stack up to get your numbers back up
One little two little three little corpses
a million little skeletones—pass the microphone
Ahh, look at how big our boy’s getting
All dressed up, playing at his aunt’s wedding
This is the land of the dead
And we are all inside your head
Did you create us or did we create you?
last chance for the bandwagon ego-stroking
you’ve got the army of the dead behind you
but even in your head they can find you
Everyone is dying to be like you—
It’s not the death but the rate of decay that
concerns me.
Everyone is dying to be like you—
It’s not the death but the rate of decay—
They call my name.
Everyone is dying to be like you,
Keep on repeating and believing it’s true.
But it’s that rate of decay that concerns me
The dead dwindle but the swindle continues.
and I don’t mean to be aggressive. We can all live our
own lives on our own time in our own minds
and when the maggots come looking for a bite, you’ll be the
last cricket standing—you play your cards right
It’s not the death but the rate of decay that concerns me
I can hear them calling my name
I can hear them calling my name
It’s not the death but the rate of decay
that concerns me—I can hear them calling my name
You could be the
Last cricket standing—you play your cards right
Keep on recycling the rhymes and lines you write
Keep on pretending this is real life, every night
And come and rock the mic like dynamite
Four lines four takes over disco breaks
Exaggerate the stakes—Yo, I’m great, I’m great
I’m so and so, I’m this, I’m that.
(But they all just wick wick wack)
I bet you got a fat stack in your record rack
add ‘em up it’s the friends you lack
Realize that they’re dropping like flies
Another lines up once the last mime dies
Everyone is dying to be like you—
It’s not the death but the rate of decay that
concerns me.
Everyone is dying to be like you—
It’s not the death but the rate of decay—
They call my name.
You keep your heart cold in a paper bag
While the dead stack up to get your numbers back up
One little two little three little corpses
a million little skeletones—pass the microphone
Ahh, look at how big our boy’s getting
All dressed up, playing at his aunt’s wedding
This is the land of the dead
And we are all inside your head
Did you create us or did we create you?
last chance for the bandwagon ego-stroking
you’ve got the army of the dead behind you
but even in your head they can find you
Everyone is dying to be like you—
It’s not the death but the rate of decay that
concerns me.
Everyone is dying to be like you—
It’s not the death but the rate of decay—
They call my name.
Everyone is dying to be like you,
Keep on repeating and believing it’s true.
But it’s that rate of decay that concerns me
The dead dwindle but the swindle continues.
and I don’t mean to be aggressive. We can all live our
own lives on our own time in our own minds
and when the maggots come looking for a bite, you’ll be the
last cricket standing—you play your cards right
It’s not the death but the rate of decay that concerns me
I can hear them calling my name
I can hear them calling my name
Last edited by Smalltown Mike on Fri Apr 28, 2006 12:45 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Punk rock is for children. Grab a six-pack at Half-a-Dozen Records.
-
EightLeggedOedipus
- Attlee
- Posts: 310
- Joined: Fri Dec 17, 2004 10:11 pm
- Location: Los Angeles, CA
- Contact:
Rate of Decay
By Eight Legged Oedipus
(C) 2006 Pure Greed Records
Baby!
I just had the most amazing dream
We were just two lepers
Stuck in quarantine
I'm in love with you every day
Our rate of decay isn't slowing
I'm happy just knowing that I'll be with you till the day that I die
Between us we can only count to thirty three
But we've been making faces at the orderlies for hours
Laugh the pain away
Our rate of decay is increasing
But we've been releasing endorphins, baby
So we feel fine
Here with you
I love you
We're not even bothered that we're never free
Check it out
They're talking about us on TV
I'm in love
There's no need to fight
I could die tonight
I'm in love
Gifts from fifty states
Every day's a date with the one that I'm kissing
A hundred afflictions couldn't take my love away
Note: I am sorry to all the listeners for the incredibly intolerable mix of this recording. I had to re-do it from scratch at the last minute due to the previous rendition getting corrupted.
By Eight Legged Oedipus
(C) 2006 Pure Greed Records
Baby!
I just had the most amazing dream
We were just two lepers
Stuck in quarantine
I'm in love with you every day
Our rate of decay isn't slowing
I'm happy just knowing that I'll be with you till the day that I die
Between us we can only count to thirty three
But we've been making faces at the orderlies for hours
Laugh the pain away
Our rate of decay is increasing
But we've been releasing endorphins, baby
So we feel fine
Here with you
I love you
We're not even bothered that we're never free
Check it out
They're talking about us on TV
I'm in love
There's no need to fight
I could die tonight
I'm in love
Gifts from fifty states
Every day's a date with the one that I'm kissing
A hundred afflictions couldn't take my love away
Note: I am sorry to all the listeners for the incredibly intolerable mix of this recording. I had to re-do it from scratch at the last minute due to the previous rendition getting corrupted.
<a href="http://www.mbeanis.com/0.html">Understand</a> my reviews. Voted best auto-wrecking record of 2005! "<a href="http://www.thedrinks.net/"><b>The Drinks</a></b>' - Grr!" available now.
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Thanks For The Frisbee
- Attlee
- Posts: 266
- Joined: Wed Mar 01, 2006 6:22 pm
- Instruments: mine
- Recording Method: wishful thinking
- Submitting as: Thanks for the Frisbee
- Location: Washington
rod
Is something wrong
Im starting to launch our lame time capsule into space
With a rocket we
Made out of a coke bottle sitting on a homemade powder keg
You’re withdrawn
You’re withdrawing me to
With your inside-out smile
Now im face down
In a ghost town
Rotting from the brain down
While you do pilates
Breathing very shallow
And wasting away
I try to calculate my rate of decay
Exploding up
Into thin atmosphere
tea sets and comic books
Erupting in a wild frenzied fire ball
that's Ingiting us
I made mistakes
Im starting to launch our lame time capsule into space
With a rocket we
Made out of a coke bottle sitting on a homemade powder keg
You’re withdrawn
You’re withdrawing me to
With your inside-out smile
Now im face down
In a ghost town
Rotting from the brain down
While you do pilates
Breathing very shallow
And wasting away
I try to calculate my rate of decay
Exploding up
Into thin atmosphere
tea sets and comic books
Erupting in a wild frenzied fire ball
that's Ingiting us
I made mistakes
Thanks for the frisbee is on Spotify, iTunes, Apple Music ect.
-
furrypedro
- Niemöller
- Posts: 1298
- Joined: Mon Nov 07, 2005 12:06 pm
- Instruments: Guitar, programming
- Recording Method: Cubase, Reason
- Submitting as: Balance Lost
- Location: Kyoto
- Contact:
Those Meddling Kids
I've been waiting here
for 700million years
If this amount is halving
will it ever really disappear?
oooaah
When your soul is gone
and your body becomes a banquet
for bugs and the energy transmits
through ingestion and decomposition
woo
His physical form was of no use
no use to him any longer
Take some ash inside a can
and throw it to the wind
so you're never really destroyed
just diffused throughout the system
I've been waiting here
for 700million years
If this amount is halving
will it ever really disappear?
oooaah
When your soul is gone
and your body becomes a banquet
for bugs and the energy transmits
through ingestion and decomposition
woo
His physical form was of no use
no use to him any longer
Take some ash inside a can
and throw it to the wind
so you're never really destroyed
just diffused throughout the system
Rate of Decay
Rate Of Decay by MedMonk
There once was a man who's name was ray,
he had a problem with tea, he drank it all day.
he tried to make it stop, he had an addiction,
he knew this for fact, yet ignored it as fiction.
One day on his walk home, from the medical center,
it was a confused, angry trance his mind did enter...
Im not ill, im as fit as a fiddle,
how can he know from a cup full of piddle
i aint goin crazy, i aint goin wack
my mind is fine, c'mon tea aint crack!
it was with this that ray began to see,
that his mind was not stable due to the tea.
he got in that night and closed the door,
stroked his cat, before the tea he did pour
he sat down an drank his drink,
during all this he began to think...
surely tea cant make me go mad,
ok ive drank loads, but im sure as hell glad!
Who cares if I die, as long as i have tea,
my life is so good, why cant he see!
once again ray had entered a bad state of mind,
his logic had gone, leaving only his bind.
that night he went to bed, a desperae man,
he never woke up, they tried all they can.
now you can see what happend to poor ray,
as he had suffered the rate, the rate of decay.
There once was a man who's name was ray,
he had a problem with tea, he drank it all day.
he tried to make it stop, he had an addiction,
he knew this for fact, yet ignored it as fiction.
One day on his walk home, from the medical center,
it was a confused, angry trance his mind did enter...
Im not ill, im as fit as a fiddle,
how can he know from a cup full of piddle
i aint goin crazy, i aint goin wack
my mind is fine, c'mon tea aint crack!
it was with this that ray began to see,
that his mind was not stable due to the tea.
he got in that night and closed the door,
stroked his cat, before the tea he did pour
he sat down an drank his drink,
during all this he began to think...
surely tea cant make me go mad,
ok ive drank loads, but im sure as hell glad!
Who cares if I die, as long as i have tea,
my life is so good, why cant he see!
once again ray had entered a bad state of mind,
his logic had gone, leaving only his bind.
that night he went to bed, a desperae man,
he never woke up, they tried all they can.
now you can see what happend to poor ray,
as he had suffered the rate, the rate of decay.
-
starchild
- A New Player
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Tue May 02, 2006 3:53 pm
- Location: the outer rim of the funkatron galaxy
RATE OF DECAY by STARCHILD
Transmitting a Program from the funkstation in outta space and procrastination be damned. There is hesitation in the acceleration start it slow then get fast like masturbation. There are many variations and connotations to the adjecent presentation and spacial relationships between the bursts of air pushed from my lips. words slip away and dissapate never again to be heard the same way you're late, you missed it. you better listen next time if you wanna hear the best rhymes and rhyth a mic patter ens this side of satur-en my flatterin chatterin has the mad hatter in a mental institution in disbelief of my execution. this is not an illusion i'm producing, i'm fluent and i'm not going to ruin it like some no talent gangsta that thinks he owns it. hand me your 50 cent and i'll give you a Donut. You do not even have to pay i just wanna throw that shit away and try to slow the rate of decay.
The rate of decay equates to the seconds each day you waste
I know no speed control like the turbo button on your nintendo controller some people take it slow when they get older. But I have just inserted the key and begun to crank the motor of my lean mean gargantuan motor home machine painted like the Ateam van red replaced by green by way of a spray paint can. Damn, I mean thats what i would drive in my dreams. but it seems that I only have a 1993 Oldsmobile that has not been bionic since sonic the hedgehog was a big deal. It goes slow and decays fast...guzzles gas, and I just got passed by a moped riden by an old head with a bumper sticker that said "honk if you're decayed and decrepit" the only weapon against old age is death and maybe a fuck a day to keep the wrinkles away.
The rate of decay equates to the seconds each day you waste.
The populations gettin lazy and comfortable watchin reality tv stations like it was the 80's and Flava Flav was Cliff Huxtable. My prose juxtaposed to most shows that my rhymes are combustible, like a cosby sweater to close to the crucible. Make yourself useful dude, get the fuck off the couch and tear up some music instead of your food. This complacent attitude keeps the rich buying jewels and the poor with the blues, middle class payin dues out the ass to lower corporate tax and ensure everyone a spot on the couch to see which survivor will last. Is this really how you want to spend your only time on Earth? Watchin bad TV that keeps gettin' worse? A hearse transfers the forgotton man to the cemetary where his epitaph only read he watched TV. But then again maybe you've lived your life already.
The rate of decay equates to the seconds each day you waste.
Transmitting a Program from the funkstation in outta space and procrastination be damned. There is hesitation in the acceleration start it slow then get fast like masturbation. There are many variations and connotations to the adjecent presentation and spacial relationships between the bursts of air pushed from my lips. words slip away and dissapate never again to be heard the same way you're late, you missed it. you better listen next time if you wanna hear the best rhymes and rhyth a mic patter ens this side of satur-en my flatterin chatterin has the mad hatter in a mental institution in disbelief of my execution. this is not an illusion i'm producing, i'm fluent and i'm not going to ruin it like some no talent gangsta that thinks he owns it. hand me your 50 cent and i'll give you a Donut. You do not even have to pay i just wanna throw that shit away and try to slow the rate of decay.
The rate of decay equates to the seconds each day you waste
I know no speed control like the turbo button on your nintendo controller some people take it slow when they get older. But I have just inserted the key and begun to crank the motor of my lean mean gargantuan motor home machine painted like the Ateam van red replaced by green by way of a spray paint can. Damn, I mean thats what i would drive in my dreams. but it seems that I only have a 1993 Oldsmobile that has not been bionic since sonic the hedgehog was a big deal. It goes slow and decays fast...guzzles gas, and I just got passed by a moped riden by an old head with a bumper sticker that said "honk if you're decayed and decrepit" the only weapon against old age is death and maybe a fuck a day to keep the wrinkles away.
The rate of decay equates to the seconds each day you waste.
The populations gettin lazy and comfortable watchin reality tv stations like it was the 80's and Flava Flav was Cliff Huxtable. My prose juxtaposed to most shows that my rhymes are combustible, like a cosby sweater to close to the crucible. Make yourself useful dude, get the fuck off the couch and tear up some music instead of your food. This complacent attitude keeps the rich buying jewels and the poor with the blues, middle class payin dues out the ass to lower corporate tax and ensure everyone a spot on the couch to see which survivor will last. Is this really how you want to spend your only time on Earth? Watchin bad TV that keeps gettin' worse? A hearse transfers the forgotton man to the cemetary where his epitaph only read he watched TV. But then again maybe you've lived your life already.
The rate of decay equates to the seconds each day you waste.