This is the exit scene from an Al Pachino movie that I just watched, and it heavily resonated with me as the character is a gangster that dies from gunshot wounds (not self inflicted). It feels like what I would be telling myself on my deathbed.
"
Sorry, boys...
...all the stitches in the world
can't sew me together again.
Lay down. Lay down.
Gonna stretch me out
in Fernandez Funeral Home on 109th St.
Always knew I'd make a stop there...
...but a lot later
than a whole gang of people thought.
Last of the Mo-Ricans.
Well, maybe not the last.
Gail's gonna be a good mom.
New, improved Carlito Brigante.
Hope she uses the money to get out.
No room in this city
for big hearts like hers.
Sorry, baby.
I tried the best I could. Honest.
Can't come with me on this trip, though.
Gettin' the shakes now.
Last call for drinks. Bar's closin' down.
Sun's out.
Where we goin' for breakfast?
Don't wanna go far.
Rough night.
Tired baby...
...tired."
"
Sorry, boys...
...all the stitches in the world
can't sew me together again.
Lay down. Lay down.
Gonna stretch me out
in Fernandez Funeral Home on 109th St.
Always knew I'd make a stop there...
...but a lot later
than a whole gang of people thought.
Last of the Mo-Ricans.
Well, maybe not the last.
Gail's gonna be a good mom.
New, improved Carlito Brigante.
Hope she uses the money to get out.
No room in this city
for big hearts like hers.
Sorry, baby.
I tried the best I could. Honest.
Can't come with me on this trip, though.
Gettin' the shakes now.
Last call for drinks. Bar's closin' down.
Sun's out.
Where we goin' for breakfast?
Don't wanna go far.
Rough night.
Tired baby...
...tired."
