If you evaluate yourself to just a pile of bones
Then you can check in 30 years to see how far that you've been thrown
But, if you resolve to piece your skeleton up
Then you can finally evolve into the man that you've become
First things first, you need support, a leg to stand on
'Cause when baton is passed, it's up to you to nail the hand-off
But it's a standoff, running out of your shamrocks
Now go and grab your bones, they've been landlocked up in your sandbox
'Cause if you crawl into this Day of the Dead shit
You'll find that gravity isn't a force that you should mess with
So lift your legs into a tower of power and rise
Quit your cowering and waiting for help to arrive
You got two legs, and feet on both to match
And moving em's better than collecting them in a sack
And they're the same size, so I suggest you pray wise
'Cause when the dust settles, it wrestles em right from your waistline

Now when you've got 'em in a pile, stacked a mile high
See if you can stick the crypt to reach into the sky
But before you do it, though, you're gonna need cement
Otherwise, you'll collapse upon a stronger descent
And when everybody else is also seeming to fuse
It can appear as though there ain't enough cement here left to use
I'm confident you'll stumble on some naturally
So no need for you to go searching for faster relief
And I can understand if you just want to quietly weep
That just means that you're forgettable yet privately sweet
It's unfortunate, but that's what we're restoring you for
It's partially your own fault for igniting a war
But never mind that, we got a job to perform
We got a lot of work to do to make you lively and warm
And I know that it's monopolizing all of your time
But it'll be worth it when you cop your ticket for the Number Nine