by Nick Gisburne
Persuaded that appalling wealth will pay
To freeze him, with his children, and his wife
We take his money, all of it, today
To guarantee an everlasting life
The bio-stasis Resurrection Tank
A futuristic cylinder for six
We market as our finest body bank
Salvation, without miracles or tricks
They sit, the pampered parents, and their brood
Enjoying all the pleasures of the pool
With anaesthetics filtered into food
We send them into slumber as they cool
The government recycles them as meat
And no one lives to question the deceit
