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.