“Time of Death”

[sral]

”Time of Death”


Few things are certain in life, as a matter of interest,
you work ‘til you die and are taxed for the privilege.
Our family business leaned on this premise too —
as black and as grim as our cheap polyester suits.
My job as Head of Funeral Direction required a want to embrace
positive change so business turned over, just not in their graves.
The modernisation of burials is often revised
to ensure our pockets as lined as the coffins supplied.
This clock had survived my Grandfather, and his before him,
so the concept of time waiting for no one rang with importance.
Its hands were enormous, with a face set in tenebrous black,
expression as blank as pallbearing professionals have.
The ready example epitomised all gravediggers should be
I hadn’t just tinkered beneath it, so much as built a MACHINE!
By increasing the speed of its gear chain to automate the procedure
its spade could dig deeper than any man, without taking a breather.
The cost of labour was cheaper and graves appeared in abundance
with its centralised bevelled eye overseeing production.
But without the people to put inside the plot thickens as well
every ditch that it delved meant a bigger hole I’d dig for myself.
The funny thing having dealt with death is the changes it inhibits
and some say that it elicits strange behaviours in the living.
I aimed to save the business from ever-dwindling debts
but never came to make a killing in the literal sense.
Now several victims are buried after being choked to their deaths
only instead of the dearly departed, it’s me in over my head.
With no body left to turn to, no place to vanish and hide
in the back of my mind I know it’s all just a matter of time.
So I glance up at my invention as it’s pendulum falls
better of course to be buried alive by it than the stress of it all.
I set it to automatic and watch as its cold, black hand twitches
my last gasps ticking away slowly before the taxman visits!

[ACTIVATE SELF]

First and foremost, I’d like to congratulate you for being the first textcee in the history of the internet to win a staggering 1 billion matches. I think we can definitively say you’re ahead of everyone else by at least 999,999,732 wins. So salud!

Death”


”Time of Death”


Few things are certain in life, as a matter of interest,
you work ‘til you die and are taxed for the privilege.

We all know the original idiom, but I thought this was a very dope turn of phrase, that actually added more depth to the former. I especially enjoyed the inclusion of the word “interest”, and how it correlates to taxation. Clever, and a dope intro, to what seem like a unique story.

Our family business leaned on this premise too —
as black and as grim as our cheap polyester suits.
My job as Head of Funeral Direction required a want to embrace
positive change so business turned over, just not in their graves.

Nice description and exposition. Your wordplay is also top tier.

The modernisation of burials is often revised
to ensure our pockets as lined as the coffins supplied.
This clock had survived my Grandfather, and his before him,
so the concept of time waiting for no one rang with importance.

So far I’m digging the story, your witness (ex. grandfather clock), and the fluidity of the read. The last part in particular, because I’ve read things from you in the past that were a little choppy, not due to a lack of skill or technique, but more so having to deal with a difference in accent and pronunciation of words. However, this is joint is butter.

Its hands were enormous, with a face set in tenebrous black,
expression as blank as pallbearing professionals have.
The ready example epitomised all gravediggers should be
I hadn’t just tinkered beneath it, so much as built a MACHINE!
By increasing the speed of its gear chain to automate the procedure
its spade could dig deeper than any man, without taking a breather.

I love the visuals, your character so far seems like a very cheap bastard, who’s only concern in life (ironically) is saving and making money. Also, I love the rap battle punchiness of the last line. Dope stuff.

The cost of labour was cheaper and graves appeared in abundance
with its centralised bevelled eye overseeing production.
But without the people to put inside the plot thickens as well
every ditch that it delved meant a bigger hole I’d dig for myself.
The funny thing having dealt with death is the changes it inhibits
and some say that it elicits strange behaviours in the living.
I aimed to save the business from ever-dwindling debts
but never came to make a killing in the literal sense.
Now several victims are buried after being choked to their deaths
only instead of the dearly departed, it’s me in over my head.
With no body left to turn to, no place to vanish and hide
in the back of my mind I know it’s all just a matter of time.
So I glance up at my invention as it’s pendulum falls
better of course to be buried alive by it than the stress of it all.
I set it to automatic and watch as its cold, black hand twitches
my last gasps ticking away slowly before the taxman visits!

Eh, wish you would have taken the taxman with. You know, died a hero! But oh well.

Cool story, bro. Theme, scheme, imagery and wit, I’d say you ticked all the boxes. Thoroughly enjoyed. Big props.