As i look upon the sunset dreary,

lost in this world so weak and weary,

i ponder on the meaning of life,

that beautiful lie on which we strife.

for in the end we all die,

and become not but bleached bones dry,

at the end of our time we return to dust,

each death as noticable as a speck of rust.

we live together just to die alone,

eternal slumber beneath a block of stone,

rise again and live we shall not,

for in the cold hard ground we shall rot.

the living mourn but soon forget,

up to and including no less than our own get,

i hear the whispers of they whom shun death,

of those who cower and cling to their breath.

i hear their cries in the dead of night,

for loved ones lost how it gives them fright,

as they wimper and simper and tears are shed,

i chuckle and laugh as i lay in my bed,

for in the end it doesnt matter

we're all just dead.