Behind the white church
With the steeple
Holes have been dug
For many people
Those people don't move
They stay in the ground
They stay in their rut
They don't make a sound
They can get sun
They can get showers
Tombs decorated
With beautiful flowers
Manicured landscaping
The green grass cut
In spite of all this
They stay in their rut
Day after day
In the same room
Year after year
In the same tomb
We can live our life
Stagnant and strange
Digging our ruts
Fighting change
We can stick to the usual
Perform the customary
Yet we will be no different
Than a beautiful cemetery