• Ten little dead things
    Laying in the hall
    Thin little black strings
    Around the wrists of all

    Ten tiny dead things
    Little puppets for me
    I’ve ripped off their little wings
    So that they can’t fly free

    These ten little dead things
    Have been trapped for so long
    Until death came to sing
    A song to end all songs

    Ten blackened dead things
    We know of them as flies
    Beneath the light the morning brings
    Every last one dies

    Ten little dead things
    Forgotten on the floor
    From the roof, themselves they fling
    Because someone locked the door

    Ten little dead things
    Found by students of the school
    With missing wings and broken strings
    drowned in bloody pools

    Ten forgotten dead things
    Now we must ask why?
    With all the students accounted for
    Who is the lowly fly?