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Dead Man Rising
Once there was this man, you see
Poor fella, ugly as could be
After a day or two of righteous thunder
He'd wake up dead, and six feet under
His hands are grinded to the bone by now
After months and months of clawing coffins down
You'd have a hard time keeping your fingers clean
as the worm's next meal escapes the scene
The gravekeeper never seemed that concerned
Just pointed him to the hospital,
where the same thing would occur
Desperate for a closure that always betrays
This poor, poor man just can't get away
In for his treatment, dead the next day
And tearing down his sorry resting place
He's a living organ donor,
recollecting what's left
Please return this lung to the owner
We won't be needing it again
He's not much of an elusive case
Always dropping blood in his haste
And every uniform he comes across
sends him packing at the hands of loss
Foul and forgiving, dragging his feet
More exhausted with every blister he meets
Friends of his have bought the stone
Laughing at his antics over the phone
The family at hand replaces the wood
As any loving support of his always should
And when he comes 'round to plead and cry,
They like to list a few problems that apply
He gets to spend one night in a nice, warm bed
Before the doctor is scheduled to examine his head
And then, we conclude
That man must awake to face another interlude
To deface a gravesite to which he once belonged
And to wander off again,
In search of the right tune
to end an unfortunate song.
