Blank stares sheathing sorrow
Pasted to faces with no tomorrow
In-depth indeed instinctive inclination
Tending towards totalitarinization
Say it isn’t so and you lie to the dead
Not an issue for those who are born to dread
But for those of us who have gone before
Do they already know just what is in store?
Lie to the dead and the eat your tongue
The taste and the smell and the feel of dung
It’s the simultaneity of living and dying
That they happen together is what’s underlying
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