Lately I’ve been wondering why we dress up when people die
As if the straightness of our ties could iron out our crooked minds
‘Cause there was no grace when boys became men overnight
With painted on strength and suit and tie at their father’s funeral
I carry the dead in the shortness of my breath
But I can’t see the point in measuring every step I take away from it
Cause I don’t want to just be alive in photographs
Confronting mortality on an empty stomach
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