It's not natural. If I can't smell it, It ain't, So don't tell me It's as natural as birth. You've seen the roadkill, Deer missing the most natural of parts, Lying in the strangest contortions; Heard the bird Breaking its neck on a window; Then there's the gaping mouth, Eyes staring most unnaturally. To be burned and urned And feel nothing. Having a steak and beer Is natural; Sitting in sound at a McCartney concert Is supernatural. Expensive, but sensient. But it, It's most unnatural.
Tip of the cap to Tolstoy for "It" (The Death of Ivan Ilych)