Flesh Turns to Dust - Autopsy

Time has taken your living flesh

Stolen your last gasping struggling breath

Lungs in upheaval, brain in a tomb

Becoming sand in a world of gloom

No teeth in it’s skull, yet you’re eaten away

Your epitaph clearer while tissues decay

Your flesh, it turns to dust

The dice of bones are carved and cast

There’s pain to bring and time to kill

There’s cemetery holes to fill

Despite your will, you can’t command

The reaper’s all ensnaring hand