The Funeral کے بول

i have been staring at these cold bodies all week. divine straight to rust. lifeless, stagnant. bound and gagged forced to stare into this haze. your motivation smashed. pitch white funeral march. now a murder machine devours charred memories. watch the life taking gears grind. tight and clean lubricated with our faith. fueled by our hope. tuned with our every action. doubt the sincerity. isn't this slate so clean? tarnished with singed flesh. now we all have to step forward. shallow box, hallow ground. Diet for the worms.