All I want to do is sit on my ass and fart and think of Dante.
Abode where lost bodies roam each searching for its lost one.
If you don't know where you are currently standing, you're dead.
Personally I have no bone to pick with graveyards, I take the air there willingly, perhaps more willingly than elsewhere, when take the air I must.
There's man all over for you, blaming on his boots the fault of his feet.
Do you always believe in the life to come? Mine was always that.