We lay down so low
let go so slow.

Till, the tremors in
their voices
mirror our own.

Congested in fear
as we hear clear
the final call,

Green swamps
see sinking dreams
of stinking sewage
and hear our horrors
as we scream.

The earth is softened.
Till, brown mounds are moved
to cover your corpse
from their sorrow filled view.

It is what we fear most.
So, we claim heavenly hosts
will come for us.
We trust the lust
of a white collared thief
who sales us relief
from our fear and grief,

but we all go down
into the ground in the end.