The dead thing rests in the box made of dead trees
Surrounded by dead dirt, source for worm feed
Bird eats worm pulled from the earth squirming
flies away shot sliced seasoned burning
goes to the stomach stops live things' yearning.
Reptile moves through the jungles of the past,
comet impact puts an end to all that.
Million years pass, and its dug up for the class,
shown to New Yorkers, persuaded into gas,
inspires the children but still longs for ancient grass.
Kid gets shot for a pile of rotting plants.
Investigation ends with culprit's cuffed hands.
Jury bans killer from normal men's lands.
Trapped in a cage, only felons for friends,
when he gets out he can do it again.
Have some bad meat, make your stomach go squeeze.
Lay in bed for weeks with vicious disease.
Your insides are something no insect would eat.
Rupturing skin, no pore doesn't bleed.
And you finally rest in the box made of dead trees.