The Clock Has Stopped Ticking.
The clock has stopped ticking it\'s time for the eternal sleep, mind is Unchained, your turn for some restful peace.
Destination unknown, do you qualify for heaven, meet the tall man dressed in white will he cleanse your sins.
Or maybe you qualify for the darkened dungeons of hell, meet the tall man in black who will keep you under his spell.
Being carried by strangers in your cheap wooden box, to be lowered into the freshly dug plot.
Your children looking on with fake tears in their eyes, carrying on the illusion they care just another page in the book of lies.
Call out to the devil, look out one box coming down, you become just another old man left to rot in the ground.
Covered in earth no one would ever know you are there, no sign at all that anyone is missing you or even ever cared.
No headstone, nameplate or even a cheap bunch of flowers, just a few holes where the worms have started to burrow.
As in life, in death you were abandoned and quickly forgotten, no one claims that you were once close and important to them.
It is if you lived your life as an invisible human being, making no difference to anyone if you were dead or living.
At least now you are at peace in your unmarked grave, unto the demons in your head you will no longer be a slave.
Whether you get selected for heaven or hell, I know you will have one hell of a story to tell.
Tobani