The wheel keeps moving,

Our hearts keep breaking,

These graves we keep digging

& our numbered days they keep rigging…

Just as we catch our breath;

today it’s Beth,

just after Seth,

it’s yet another death…

We’re here again,

6 feet before the open earth,

please,

we can’t keep up the math,

This hell has no sabbath

our souls aren’t well..

Waiting and waiting for another bell,

for the funeral parlour has something to sell, there’s a wreath we have to pick and smell…

Our hope is depleted,

so many numbers to be deleted,

death has us defeated

and perhaps our faith is now muted and seated…

What will soothe us?

Maybe the knowledge that mortals do pass, that we get to jump onto the next bus,

and hopefully,

although it’s sometimes doubtfully,

may our next address,

at least be filled with less of a mess…