Who's the lawyer?

Or the mortician?

Who's the baker?

The clerk?

The beautician?

Who is the powerful?

Who is the weak?

Who's normal?

Who's a freak?

When they all die,

Which they will one day,

and they rot in the ground,

And their bones decay,

Place each skull on a table to see,

They all look exactly the same.

In death, no matter what they used to be,

This is what they became.

Skulls on the table,

Now they're unable,

To speak, or hear, or see.

When it's all over,

Doesn't matter what your title used to be.

In life as you live,

Graciously give,

For that is all they will remember.

When you helped,

When you smiled,

When you cared for a child,

when you forgave,

And were reconciled.

when you loved,

When you shared,

When you showed them you cared,

Immortality in the end,

Will entirely depend,

On how many lives those bare bones touched.