А вы вот знали, что в одном своем рассказе у Андрея Платонова мелкая девчушка стояла у могилы своей матери и говорила: "Я хочу умереть к тебе"? Кстати, кому не безразличны мои литературные муки, можете помочь мне найти этот рассказ - названия я, хоть убейте, не помню.
Поэтому К/Для/Из-за нужное подчеркнуть  Dva-Stula

Life is okay when you don't take it seriously
Life is awkward and gawky when you do things spontaneously
Life is plain and clumsy, so let's mock on it hilariously

Life is a sugar-free watermelon juice, a Cuban cigar
Life is a pole in a strip-club and the infamous Broadwayan streetcar
Life is hypocrisy and hatred and a deep-fried chocolate Mars bar

Life, on the whole, is the hard and adamant ball of shenanigan
The only difference between us, is that you say, as an experienced hitman,
That it is good. I say: “It's bad” and see you off to your private Afghanistan

It's full of empty ink-pots and a packed with blank paper bookcase
Of dwarfs and wine-bottles, cobwebs, deliberate burns and cold embrace
And a puny girl with a nickname instead of her face

You stand alone on post-war period of your scorched earth
Where you have always been your own cutthroat from your very birth
Where you left yourself to suffer from complete void and dearth

And I am waiting on the border with a mouthful of absurd rhymes
Waiting for your sign to start chitchatting about our future brave new times
If only you open the blinds on your eyes and and wash them from the grime

Because you leave me constantly repeating, setting my teeth on edge
And scribbling on my skin the message: “You are my toughest and fragile pledge”
Until all the Gospels are written with your name instead of Hosanna - I allege

So strangely and ingloriously you settled down and grew through me
Like a swallow that wintered with an amorous vole and now is about to flee
Like a sprout through concrete you never needed permits nor keys

Thus I can't distinguish that very point when the only last fright
That is eating me has left and squeezed me with strength so desperate and tight
Is that I will become for you that one from the crowd without face or light

But you might be right and till we have adverts and naked white actress' thigh -
Life is durable and clumsy, more or less, okay, except for pathetic good-bye
The last lesson your wasteland can give you - fear dying - as you'll never die