I may have posted this b4.
Everywhere I look I see dead people.
Dressed in the same suits as all the other corpses in the world.
Riding in their mini-van coffins, eating their prepackaged microwaveable embalming fluids.
Waiting in traffic for miles just to enter the city limit graveyards.
They walk and they are dead, zombies with the cell phone halos.
Lost souls wandering about in the great necropolises,
New York to Los Angeles, Boston to Miami
Skylines filled with great Mausoleums, reaching higher and higher just to honor their gods or business
They rest with a little plaque tombstone that reads.
With cryptic inscriptions that read like code. CEO, GF, GM, ARE, RIP...
Here lies our V P of Mergers and acquisitions,
the pharaoh has the corner office with a park view.
Dead men and women with their postmortem hair dressed in their pin striped greys, blacks and blues.
They carry with them into their tombs their most prized belongings,
Tucked safe in their leather briefcases and manila folders.
They spent years in school to be processed for this,
Mummified, their brains picked apart by the sharp hooks of brainwashed educators.
Their organs placed behind glass frames to be hung on the walls to remind them they once breathed.
"This is my wife and I at Yellowstone. We got a corporate rate on the honeymoon mortuary!"
Their Obituary comes as a fill in the blank with your SSN and your past 5 morticians.
Sometimes these dead beings haunt the living.
They try to come back to life but are just shadows of who they once were.
They haunt the old clubs and bars, grey eyed like vampires just seeking to taste the blood of the truly living again.
But in the end they return to their khaki robes of the dead.
I see them look at us as carrion,
feeding from their hard 40 hour weeks of decay.
I smile at them knowing that at least we the flesh-eaters of rotting corpses still live.
We still wiggle and breath, we still feast from their death..
Is there anything truly more morbid than Corporate America?
Dressed in the same suits as all the other corpses in the world.
Riding in their mini-van coffins, eating their prepackaged microwaveable embalming fluids.
Waiting in traffic for miles just to enter the city limit graveyards.
They walk and they are dead, zombies with the cell phone halos.
Lost souls wandering about in the great necropolises,
New York to Los Angeles, Boston to Miami
Skylines filled with great Mausoleums, reaching higher and higher just to honor their gods or business
They rest with a little plaque tombstone that reads.
With cryptic inscriptions that read like code. CEO, GF, GM, ARE, RIP...
Here lies our V P of Mergers and acquisitions,
the pharaoh has the corner office with a park view.
Dead men and women with their postmortem hair dressed in their pin striped greys, blacks and blues.
They carry with them into their tombs their most prized belongings,
Tucked safe in their leather briefcases and manila folders.
They spent years in school to be processed for this,
Mummified, their brains picked apart by the sharp hooks of brainwashed educators.
Their organs placed behind glass frames to be hung on the walls to remind them they once breathed.
"This is my wife and I at Yellowstone. We got a corporate rate on the honeymoon mortuary!"
Their Obituary comes as a fill in the blank with your SSN and your past 5 morticians.
Sometimes these dead beings haunt the living.
They try to come back to life but are just shadows of who they once were.
They haunt the old clubs and bars, grey eyed like vampires just seeking to taste the blood of the truly living again.
But in the end they return to their khaki robes of the dead.
I see them look at us as carrion,
feeding from their hard 40 hour weeks of decay.
I smile at them knowing that at least we the flesh-eaters of rotting corpses still live.
We still wiggle and breath, we still feast from their death..
Is there anything truly more morbid than Corporate America?