A- wake

To float up to the gates of gleaming glory
And all your organs decomposing slowly  
Rendered down to lie in your best clothes  
A sepulchre of polished stone  
  
The minister his benediction  
Falls like dirt upon the coffin  
Your spirit, its so healthy and alive "Ha!"  
Trapped in that old decaying cadaver  
   
Waiting for the call, the higher authority    
A hold for you in purgatory  
A wait to tot up the accounts  
Will a red card see Beelzebub  triumph  
   
The wreaths of condolence lie in place  
Is there a future, any solace    
 It should have been the cryogenics clinic  
To delay deaths final physics

The mourners hush
Descends in screams of nothingness
To look upon eternity as that LP
Needle broken record spinning endlessly