Slow Death March

Oh won’t you come and follow me?
Won’t you come and lay your head
Where the dead pray for the living
And the living pray for dead?
We’ll sit at our inner table
And break our poisoned bread
Where the dead pray for the living
And the living pray for dead
Oh, come into the desert
So desolate, so bare
A land to match our souls
And to match our vacant stares
We’ll write our weepin' song
In the stones we gather there
To read from the highest Heaven
For men, they do not care
Oh won’t you come and follow me?
Won’t you come and lay your head
Where the dead pray for the living
And the living pray for dead?
We’ll make our home the wilderness
The multitudes have fled
Where the dead pray for the living
And the living pray for dead
Yes, come into the desert
We too will be the sand
Blow in every direction
Ever at the wind’s command
We’ll see not with our eyes
The good and just have taken them
So see this world we wander
Ever through our hollowed hands
Oh won’t you come and follow me?
Won’t you come and lay your head
Where the dead pray for the living
And the living pray for dead?
We’ll set our inner table
And break our poisoned bread
Where the dead pray for the living
And the living pray for dead