The Laughing Dead

I wonder if the dead laugh at us
Cos they're not really dead
When we cry for them
Do they laugh
Because we don't' know the half
When we put flowers against a
Three thousand dollar tombstone
On so many holidays
Thinking that they are there
Down there with the worms
And damp in their terribly,
Horribly expensive box
When we feel guilty and
Think it's a sin
To think of the moss growing
On their decaying skin
I almost always never cry
Because they're not really dead
And we're not really alive