History is comprised of Dead men writing morse code on the longest line of cocaine.
Dead men who threw Rolling Stones hoping they'll gather moss so the next dead man doesn't die alone.
Where are the women? Dead. Death doesn't discriminate.
Why are they dead? Because they were once alive, Death is never late.
What about the living? They lie in graves since life is just a bait.
Death isn't always the answer, yet we earn for the satisfaction it brings.
The alive know only questions; lies are what we sing.
Facts that change without user interaction.
Pillar of Questions being just a Fraction.
Born in acceptance, death in obedience.
Many live awaiting death.
No need to question a timeline's redundant.
A challenge so daunting, billions weep on pedastals built by dead ancestors.
And who knows,
by the time you've finished reading this,
I may just be another dead, looking upon you from Heaven's Bed.
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