Necromancy is my native tongue
For those whose songs remain unsung
For those buried beneath the ground
For those haunted by traumatic sounds
Every corpse has its own little story
Every death has its own hidden glory
Some died fighting for what they believe
Or took to the grave their ability to deceive
Some died never having lived at all
No surprise that one day they’d fall
Detachment is my only suit of armor
Against crying for those I must honor
Just another body to grow the grass
Just another ghost waiting to pass
To the next world if there ever was one
Covered in roses or saluted with guns
An undertaker’s job is never really over
An undertaker’s fear is silent and covert
Rest in peace is what we learn to say
Go through the motions for another day
This is life imitating the finest art
This is a life being torn clean apart
Just as dead as the bodies I bury
Just as heavy as the burden I carry
Maybe it’s time for a brand new career
There’s nothing left for me to do here
Follow my dreams into older ages
Write my stories on the dusty pages
How many times will I get this chance
Before I give into the devil’s dance?
