Everywhere you look are piles of bonesnAnd everyone you meet is piles of bonesnThe floor beneath your feetnThe language that you speaknThe gospel that you preach is piles of bonesnnEverywhere you look are sticks and stonesnAnd everything you own is overgrownnThe stars that shine abovenThe object of your lovenEverythin you know is piles of bonesnnBut oh, how inspiringnOh, how real