Title: Finality

The old man lay there, dead as the night,

In a wooden box wrapped up too tight.

Green grass danced, kissed by the breeze,

While down below, worms chew with ease.

Sister’s cries, hushed by ecclesiastical lies,

Clings to a hope that the soul never dies.

But if she saw Tomas, rotting in the dirt,

She’d know all we leave are the joys and the hurt.

Oh, the sermons say, and the choirs sing,

That love outlives every earthly thing.

But bones turn to dust, and words fade away—

It’s the joys and the hurt that live past decay.

The preacher said, “He’s gone to rest,”

But those worms know they’ve got the best,

He might be peace and roses up high,

But in the dirt, the real truth lies.

Oh, life goes on, through roots and bone,

From the highest high to a gravestone.

Ash to dust, just like they said,

Green grass grows where the old man’s dead.

Well, the worms don’t care for silver or gold,

They just dig right in, the young and the old.

The boy in the suit sheds a tear or two,

But he’ll lay down here someday too.

And the grass don’t mind who it’s shading,

Young or old, it’s all degrading,

It’s a ride we all take alone,

Right after our very last moan.

Oh, life goes on, through roots and bone,

From the highest high to a gravestone.

Ash to dust, just like they said,

Green grass grows where the old man’s dead.

So we laugh and we cry and we carry on,

Just stacking up stones ‘til we're all gone.

But when you’re bones, no cares remain,

Just a snack for worms on an endless train.