One day you walk, slightly drunk, safe and sound,
But there’s a car from around a bend...
With all these vehicles speeding unbound
Lots of us don’t reach our natural end.

Friday a hearse badly crashed on the highway,
Overturned on a funeral ride,
Maiming three people as well as the driver,
Only the stiff in his box was all right.

Weepers were slipshod, the deacon was mumbling
Kind of a dirge, insincere and dry,
Trumpets blew out of key, often stumbling,
Only the guy in his box didn’t lie.

His former boss, a notorious rascal,
Kissed him despite inner shiver and spurn,
All did the same, but the guy in his casket
Didn’t produce any kiss in return.

It started raining - all went helter-skelter,
Thunderous clouds blocked out the sun,
Everyone ran away looking for shelter,
Only the stiff in his box didn’t run.

He doesn’t care for rain any longer,
There’s no cold he’s likely to catch;
I must admit that the dead are much stronger
Than living folks who are not their match!

Life is so scandalous, so impure,
Gossip and slander around you fly,
You are protected and fully secure
Only when in a coffin you lie.

Separate coffins or joint - doesn’t matter!
Housing problems don’t bother the dead,
Their behavior can’t be any better -
Quiet and shy, never driving you mad!

Hades is silent and strict and profound,
There’s no mess, no dirt, no sludge;
While we, like crazy, are fussing around,
Our stiff in his box doesn’t budge.

“He praises death!” - someone angrily hisses.
No - just Fate makes me gloomy and sad!
We any time can be crushed into pieces -
But for the ones who already are dead!

Death is persistent, relentless, sequential,
Treating alike both servants and chiefs.
Thus, each of us is a stiff in potential,
But for the ones who already are stiffs!