Dead Is Better

Dead as the widowing curse of the knife
Dead as the bloodless stare.
Dead as the ashen praying for life
Dead as the fatal air.

Screaming the rite in spite of the end, unhallowed.
In spectral decay condemned, from below...below.

Sometimes they breath, sometimes they roam
Every man buries their own.
Sometimes they speak in death divine
Sometimes dead is better than alive.

Dead as the pallid artists’ disguise
Dead as the mourners prayer.
Dead as the flesh awaiting demise
Dead as the Charon fare. 

Screaming the rite in spite of the end, unhallowed.
In spectral decay condemned, from below...below.

Sometimes they breath, sometimes they roam
Every man buries their own.
Sometimes they speak in death divine
Sometimes dead is better than alive.

Enshroud and await the hour
Beneath the ground has soured
Shadowless souls devour as the spell benights’ the dead.

Sometimes they roam
Every man buries their own.
Sometimes they speak in death divine
Sometimes dead is better than alive.