Jun 20, 2018
They found a man in concrete.
His pockets full of seeds,
muck in his collar and
putty where he bleeds.
Seeds mean something greater
but something we don’t know.
So we dug the hole again
And buried him down below.
We laid the cables down
and did our dirty work.
Left the man to stew, else
our manager go berserk.
He has a new bed now,
though the view’s all the same.
Went home, had our tea,
No one here’s to blame.
Y’know, honored burial is well and good,
but I do what I must and not what I should.
