though their humor's out of style.
I know why they bare their dentures:
Laughing at the living's ventures.
Is it odd the dead are laughing
at the world's choreographing?
Chicken-like we run our races,
never slowing breakneck paces.
We all die; it's life's common goal
It's people's fate pole to pole.
I know that the skulls laugh at us
who can't accept death without fuss.
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