House Cleaning

If people were things
Just lying around
Would you want to be an art book
When house cleaning comes
If people were tunes
Just humming along
Would you want be this love song
When your guitar strums
Maybe God will want you for his coffee table
But nobody here has use anymore
For “pretty pictures in my head”
Maybe the angels will forever be crying for what's been lost
But everybody here is as dry as bones.