There's a boy in crimson rags with a grimace and a spoon
And a little sullen girl face-up staring at the moon
And there's no one around to hear their lonesome cries
Then they pass away alone into the night
Why do we pity the dead?
Are you churned by emotion from voices in your head?
Look at all the living and you'll ask yourself why
Oh why do we pity the dead?
Well, you've seen the disease, suffering and decay
And you whisper to yourself, blissfully, "it's okay"
And you still refuse the possibility
That the dead are better off than we
Why do we pity the dead?
Are you scared of the logic that swirls within your head?
Look at all the living and you'll ask yourself why
Oh, why do we pity the dead?
Tell me what you see
Tell me what you know
Is there anyone who lives a painless life?
If there is, show me so
The destitute and famished
Demonic and the banished
Dejected and the ostracized
The brainwashed and the paralyzed
The conquered and objectified
The few who see the other side
Tell me what you see
It's a mortal, wretched cacophony
In the end, you may find there's no guiding, subtle light
No ancestors, no friends, no judge of wrong or right
Just eternal silence and dormancy
And a final, everlasting peace
Why do we pity the dead?
Are you churned by emotion from voices in your head?
Look at all the living and you'll ask yourself why
Oh why do we pity the dead?