Monton de tierra

We all end up in the end
where the dead reside,
must have something nice about it
since no one comes back.
Every day a piece of us rots away
dawn breaks and time slips through our fingers,
we're all broken little pots, broken little pots,
every day...
The departure has finally come
I'll slowly go, slowly.
In the end, we're all
just a pile of dirt.
In the end, we're all
just a pile of dirt.