So
The joke is getting stale
The punchline has become a painful afterbirth
And I don't know what's worse
The stench of rotting flesh
The swarm of angry flies
They buzz incessantly and I can't make them stop
And I can't clear my head
So I'll keep marching on, like zombies on parade
And you can point and jeer
The stiffs go sliding by
Their heads cocked to one side
As though their necks were broken
We don't live here anymore
But thanks for stopping by
We'll pass on your respects
We'll give them all your best
It's like they never left
The furniture's still here
And everything just so
So this is how the story ends
A long awkward silence
Stop sniveling
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