Familiar strangers nod in stone faced approval
Their names all ring a bell in a hollow yesterday tone
Flesh and bone meal for worms and forgotten old friends and relatives
In the dark I twist and turn, burning for a feast
Hearing beautiful noises in the weeds and from afar
Shadows come to life and beckon before disappearing
I see all and nothing
I am everything, but a microcosm of cellular primordial ooze
We are all slowly rotting both the living and the dead
Dance if you can
Sing if you want to
Die if you must
But not on the dance floor my darling
Not on the dance floor.
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