Pile the bodies higher Climb to the top so the world can see The depth of your sympathy Worn as it is upon your sleeve Where's the true compassion In this vapid, sickly cult Of worshipping celebrity? Struck with my mortality Dazed by the reality Forced upon my eyes Dying from the time we're born But few are prepared To be told it's time Tell my friends I fought Tell my friends I struggled Tell my friends I gave it all I had There won't be any tickets to this funeral (the curtain is falling) There won't be any story in the news (silenced) No voyeurs masquerading as mourners There won't be any tickets left for you A single one's a tragedy A million a statistic And now it's all come down to me
