I once asked an undertaker,
You know, the eternal bed maker,
“How is work these days?”
He smiled and said without delays:

“Good, people are dying aplenty nowadays!”
Was he joking, or serious in his own ways?
Can you let your wrath on him really grow?
He makes his living from death, you know.

Earth cannot sustain the living if all people stayed alive,
It is pure economics, a matter of supply and demand,
I could prove it, with the right formulas at hand,
But it is obvious, if humanity continued to thrive.

Well, it is not a matter of life and death,
But these people had their last breath,
But dead people have all their time to wait,
And have all the time in the world to waste.

They are going nowhere, or perhaps they are,
Their souls might be going places very far,
Their bodies have one last trip to perform,
And the undertaker is duly filling the form.