We are all dying here, some slower than others
The corpses that mattered are calling out to us
That phone you bought will not reach the network
Where the corpses that matter are claiming us.
The man crossing the road out of sight, crosses
Not knowing how far is too far, how far
Till we all return? For the corpses that matter
Are watching, the pomp and splendour that you cling to
Will fall away like dead skin clinging to the soul
And you will stand naked, for the corpses that matter
Will return. To take us home.