It's like the reality of falling leaves:

In autumn, people seek them out
Their perfected performance of death
A leap from ten stories in a party dress
The taffeta catching the up draft

No one gathers to see the aftermath

Of carnage covered by dirt and water
Taking beauty and churning it out
Brown sledge grunted up by the earth
Spit out, mangled, the marrow exposed

It's always the same
The crowds bottleneck, shove, push
To see the start, but at the end
Everyone is looking for an out

Such happiness for what follows hello, for
Everything that comes just before goodbye