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The accident, the eyes of the dying man and his last words.

Words like a will.

Concealed truth.

The man had been hit by a truck and was ******** to death in the street.

I was just passing by.

It's been three years.

I had stopped and my curiosity had led me to the dying man.

'Cause I couldn't help.

Never learned.

But I had my curiosity.

If he smiled while he died.

I had heard that they smile in death.

As if they saw a better world.

He didn't smile.

But he spoke.

Impressive, broken, but he spoke.

My ID's in my pocket.

Concealed truth.

My ID's in my pocket.

And then he jumped.

No, I wouldn't run over an ******.

Never.

******* have no words.