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On Bodies
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We Must
I know how this ends
Alone a hole, without family or friends
I know, so I can't pretend
To find meaning or a message to send
You claim you're always changing
Maybe slowly changing into soil
Is it worth the toil?
Sure, we're always morphing
Slowly fucking morphing into dust
Well, I suppose we must
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Killing time until time kills me
Wasting time until time wastes me
This is getting old. This is getting gray
Doing what we're told. Every fucking day
It's how we're bought and sold. Surviving in the fray
Outlived by the worms in the soil where we lay
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