Time for necromage

We walk around depressed in a brain dead logic

looking at graves as if we going through the same dang process

seeming as if we used to have a soul and lost it

so we decide to make friends with skeletons in our closets

when picket fences fall and the mirrors stop reflecting

is when we finally look applaud and ready to stop forgetting

that we all is created from god and we all trying to get it

when hands pop out the grave the living won't get the message

that we are the expression of whats in us full blown light

and we emitt it from with in us into every ones sight

so if we look at the introvert who for the first time is depressed

we say it's an every day thing and move on to the next

but see the extrovert depressed we say why you is a mess

something in the realms 

there is shaking in the hearts 

frowns give off a smell 

that we can only sense by thoughts

emotionless faces tells tales 

that put you in the dark

when the sun comes up

you decaying bones will fall apart

pick up the peices

lift up your bones 

reach for the sky 

you not alone i can look in your eyes

and tell that it's time 

for necromage