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When I see a face of anonymity
Crying on the street it does something to me
I make believe malady
Tragedy

Flowers on the grave is a beautiful thing
'Cause flowers on the grave still means they're getting something
But when the flowers ain't there
And the grave is bare
I think of old dead bones that don't get theirs

I think of all the butchers and all the beef
I think of all the flies in all the heat
I think of all the dying and dying and dying

Dying and dying and decomposing
Dying and dying's for real

When I see the damned in their dier straights
Damning all the men with those American names
I say, don't damn the man damn your hand
For making a fist and shaking it all around
Damn the hand
Damn your hand

Or you can damn the butchers and damn the beef
Or you can damn the flies in all the heat
Or you can damn the dying and dying and dying

Dying and dying and decomposing
Dying and dying's for real
Dying and dying and pounds of posey
Dying and dying's forever

When I hear the crying of a siren in the night
I think of piles of writhing people
Fighting for their lives
I see an image of a body
Broken and beet red
I hear the a cappella angels
Singing for the dead

I think of all the butchers and all the beef
I think of all the flies in all the heat
I think of all the dirt that lays a bed for bones
I think of all the words that get written on the stones
I think of all the surf that come crashing over souls
I think of all the dying
All the dying
All the dying
All the dying

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