All the Dying

When I see a face of anonymity Crying on the street, it does something to me I make believe malady, tragedy Flowers on the grave is a beautiful thing 'Cause flowers on the grave still means they're getting something But when the flowers ain't there, and the grave is bare I think of old dead bones that don't get theirs I think of all the butchers and all the beef I think of all the flies in all the heat I think if all the dying and dying and dying Dying and dying and decomposing Dying and dying's for real When I see the damned in their dire straights Damning all the men with those american names I said don't damn the man, damn your hand For makin' a fist and shaking it all around Damn the hand, damn your hand Oh, you can damn the butchers and damn the beef Oh, you can damn the flies in all the heat Or you can damn the dying and dying and dying Dying and dying and decomposing Dying and dying's for real Dying and dying and pounds of posy Dying and dying's forever When I hear the crying of a siren in the night I think of piles of writhing people, fighting for their lives I see an image of a body, broken and beet red I hear the acappella angels singing for the dead I think of all the butchers and all the beef I think of all the flies in all the heat I think of all the dirt that lays a bed for bones I think of all the words that get written on the stones I think of all the surf that come crashing over souls I think of all the dying All the dying All the dying All the dying