No cruelties are uttered by their stiff mouths
No looks of contempt graze their cold eyes
No obscene gestures, made by their clammy hands
Nothing but silently respectful listening,
Giving you their undivided attention
And letting you take the spotlight for once
No making or breaking of plans
Because they always stay in the same place
No grimace when you tell a bad joke,
Can be seen on their face
I want to work with the dead, because I know I'll never be rejected
They'll never ever make me feel dejected.
While the living world breeds fear,
The calmness of the dead draws me near,
A place of utter bliss,
Without fear of judgement
From any living pedant.
Oh, the dead entice me with their contemplative silence and
Their noncomformity from society, where being alive is in
And death breeds fear.
And, I know, that, unlike the living,
No dead would ever harm me.
They give me hope, for I know that the meat on that cold metal slab,
Is not the end of human existence.
They give me hope,
That life goes on,
A never ending, bipolar, song
Not even the smell of rotting flesh and formaldehyde could keep me away.
They freely give of all the secrets that lie inside a body of decay
Oh, how I wish to work with them one day.