Laughing at the dead

Services at the church and visitors one after another.

Services at the church and family sure to follow.

These monsters in human skin.

All here to mourn my departed mother.

But so it goes making a living only to die.

Even a tree long dead couldn't be more hollow.

Better quiet down now the minister is talking of sin.

The voices I hear chase me out of my head.

Voices belonging to "saints" crookeder than a witchin stick.

Once more you are lying in a casket.

A dark mahogany stain is how I remember you now.

"Now it's time to shut the lid on this body basket".

My brother didn't like that one, but humour always finds it's way into my head.

"Well what can I do ?"

"Laughter is the only thing to happily remind the living of the dead"