One Day Someone Will Say The Same Of Me

The hearse through the main street is passing slow
With the funeral cars following in a single row
Is the dead person a he or a she?
One day someone will say the same of me.

And did that person die young or old
And will her or his life story be told?
To the departed that does not matter 'twould seem
As the dead do not have a sense of self esteem.

The funeral towards the cemetery winds it's way
Up through the main street at noon of day
But on the cortege shoppers no interest show
As in and out of shops they go.

The dead from the Land of the living gone
But life for the living must go on
And the same fate surely awaits you and I
As the dead person in the hearse going by.