Coffins swimming in a sea of dirt
with rotting flesh inside
People grasp on memories
not as permanent as stone
All these people meant something
to someone or another
Feel the grass beneath your feet
and the soil underneath
Look at the beauty of the flowers
given to someone who's dead
Look at the branches of the trees
whose roots break open coffins
Hear the sound of the wind
that carries rustling leaves
Let's hear it for all the graveyards
that hold the newly dead.