When I die I want it to be like sleeping

When I die I want it to be like sleeping.
The way I don’t remember it,
the way I hear you in the next room talking,
the way you set a glass of water by me as I couldn’t.

I don’t want to die,
but after a week of work I’m happy to.
But love,
my love,
I don’t want to die for love of you.