As they gather at the funeral wake to speak of good times gone by, the deceased soul learns some more: revealed reality, the flames of unrest.
"Maybe his in his next life," sobs ma as tears roll, unknowing the eternal destination as he awaits the judgement throne.
"He's at rest now," the hired celebrant proclaims,
He tickles all the ears while sin is exposed by the heavenly host.
We come together to mourn a relative and to honour a departed friend, to dispose reverently of the mortal body and to show with the bereaved.
Quiet falls over the crowd as the casket lowers into the ground,
Kneeling in the heavenlies, confessing the forsaken Lord of his life.
"How can God allow this?" cries sister in lament,
But God had other plans, and revealed what this has meant.
You gather what you cast into this straying earth life,
While man has his will, the Son paid the price.
You turn the flesh back into dust, saying, "Return to dust, you sons of Adam,"
Lord, teach us so to number our days that we may apply our hearts to wisdom, in order that we avoid the aftermath of separation, returning to the original purpose of creation.
So, back on Earth, men make their claims, playing "Where do the dead go?" games,
While, up in Heaven, the creator cries as people listen to each other's lies.
