The Takers
Morbid remains of a morbid life lived
This body that rots on the shelf
The land of the living rejects your small plea
To come back and just be yourself
Small maggots infest your innards in swarms
They feed on the flesh that survived
Your fluids drain out through your sickly thin skin
Your body remains, sore deprived
“What, in your life had you done?” they all ask
To deserve a condition like this
For there’s nothing that reeks like a body defiled
Festering in its stale, week-old piss
The question remains just a question
As you in your cold stiff position, are dead
You wish to explain what had happened to you
You wish to explain what they said
You wish to explain how they’d taken your soul
How you’d done all to save kid and wife
You wish to explain how the takers had come
How they’d stolen away with your life
But you can’t, for you’re dead, and your cold lips won’t move
And there’s no one to say what they said
There’s no one to warn them of which way to go
As your body remains here instead
If you could, you would tell them to turn them away
For the takers are merciless still
The takers are “friendly” to people at first
As they mark out their victims to kill
For you don’t see the takers but in your own mind
Your conscience will tell you they’re there
For the takers are all that corrupts life and soul
And the takers are found everywhere