death has been called to order
skies draped in cumulonimbus ravens and crows
time in procession and light disconnected
he is gone and he is here
death has done it again

colour neither number beckoned, a mere cry of departure
hmm hmm goes away the wood
the masses covered in one big wet blanket
six feet underground into the soil he goes
death has done it again

generation thinned down to paper
fickle pillars stripped further from grief
all for one with one’s for all
more turmoil, less contentment
death has done it again

little girl hides behind the door
the scent of melancholy all too overwhelming

so deafeningly silent he watches her
corner to corner, dark to dark
so he can say, he did it again