Bodies buried and lined in rows. Graves marked with flags and flowered woes. But after time, it’s plainly shown that you’re a name who won’t be known. If you’re lucky, a few will cry and scream and yell right at the sky. But still you rest in the dirt no matter how much those people hurt. In centuries more, no one will care, And probably less with our climate affair. Who fucking cares? Just end it now and stop taking up all that fucking space. It doesn’t matter.