Writes a poem!

Good mourning says the gravedigger to his flock 

as the dead begin to walk 

shambling out of their nightly dreams 

into the sunlights piercing beams 

stabbing the earthly streets 

the dead squeeze their hearts to shuffling beats 

all in hope that they may find 

a little peace for their rotting mind 

you can see them walking here and there 

but until they have their coffee try not to stare.