I see your body in silk
As Hamlet’s face grows pink
Knowing there’s no honour for a fading ghost
Taking its virtue to the grave
The brown casket is getting away
Lower and lower into the ground
And forever and ever there it will stay
Even as its colour fades away
The soft shell that we’ve made cling onto the Matthew and Proverbs
Turns into goo and then to bones
And the Matthew and Proverbs
Turns into paper mache
It’s heartbreaking our knowledge can’t withstand the flood
Or even the drip, drip, drip that seeps through the mud