The Frantic Pace of Dying

They are living candles

And we will watch them burn

Their frantic pace of dying

Is so hard to maintain

Into the arms of solace you go:

(we sing the screams of men:)

«make a joyful noise unto the lord»

Scream and scream again

Age or beauty: which to burn?

There's always room for one less:

Suffering is the master from whom we learn:

Keep this secret and be blessed

In these, the last days before revelation

As existence is futile and failure is not an option

They bleed for love of the body

And they die for the body:

Now, only silence remains...

A sylvan silence

The sick

The dying

The dead

The rotting

The damned...

...the burning

Their lives, as such are but a trifle:

Their sacrifices, much like compost

Will help to nourish the seeds of the future:

This august body cannot cease to grow

«Arbeit macht frei»

Until you die:

Welcome to permanent downtime

They are all living candles

And we will watch them burn out

All these small deaths

Of mind, of body

Rest is for the weak