When you're old and run down, what happens when you die?
Not your soul but the dust and the ashes and the like
After that time you've passed on and they're scattered and they lie
Under the grass in a casket for time
Until the last of your atoms has gone back to the matter
That it had been a part of when the planet was gas dust
At the instant you're officially a corpse
This list of sick things begins kicking in with force
The tempature of your body's inner core falls
And this event is called algor mortis
It's thought this happens cos your pulse has flattened
So it halts the passage of the warmth and that
But if you thought that that was a nauseous fact
Then I ought to inform you what also happens
The muscles in your ass pack up and relax
So that all of that crap just stacks up in your pants
Your blood runs back under the gravitational pull
Then thickens and begins to coagulate plus
Skin pallid, limbs all stiff
This is called rigor mortis
When you die
Don't even bother thinking about floating to heaven
When you die
You won't burn in hell but you might roast in an oven
When you die
Don't even bother thinking of eternal paradise
When you die
You'll just be fertilising grass in this so-called afterlife
Not your soul but the dust and the ashes and the like
After that time you've passed on and they're scattered and they lie
Under the grass in a casket for time
Until the last of your atoms has gone back to the matter
That it had been a part of when the planet was gas dust
At the instant you're officially a corpse
This list of sick things begins kicking in with force
The tempature of your body's inner core falls
And this event is called algor mortis
It's thought this happens cos your pulse has flattened
So it halts the passage of the warmth and that
But if you thought that that was a nauseous fact
Then I ought to inform you what also happens
The muscles in your ass pack up and relax
So that all of that crap just stacks up in your pants
Your blood runs back under the gravitational pull
Then thickens and begins to coagulate plus
Skin pallid, limbs all stiff
This is called rigor mortis
When you die
Don't even bother thinking about floating to heaven
When you die
You won't burn in hell but you might roast in an oven
When you die
Don't even bother thinking of eternal paradise
When you die
You'll just be fertilising grass in this so-called afterlife
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