The casket costs more than a month’s pay, dig the grave but you still can’t stay. Marble stones and borrowed ground, they charge you rent to lay you down. The hearse runs black but the bills run red, debt don’t quit when the body’s dead. A suit for the dirt, a fee for the prayer, the living pay what the dead can’t bear. The economy of death, it don’t forgive, you pay to bury, you pay to live. From cradle to coffin, every breath, you owe your soul to the economy of death. The flowers fade but the interest grows, the bank keeps calling though the body froze. Morticians smile, the lawyers sign, the graveyard keeps you right on time. Families scrape what the mourners bring, every tear’s got a price on the string. Funeral blues in a ledger’s hand, you can’t die free in this cursed land. The economy of death, it don’t forgive, you pay to bury, you pay to live. From cradle to coffin, every breath, you owe your soul to the economy of death. The ground takes the body, the bill takes the rest, we die in debt at the banker’s behest. The economy of death, it don’t forgive, you pay to bury, you pay to live. The last receipt, the final breath, signed and sealed in the economy of death.
