it is the ground

Rich or poor

When the time comes

We will bury on the ground

There is no grade

There is no distinction

We all go

Like or not

We can't say

The facade can be different

It tells of taste and money

It is still the ground we go

Rich or poor what else to say?

Only the living trying to make a distinction

Telling what it is like in a such place

Only they forget it is still the ground

They forget it is still the ground

Maybe alive we can differentiate

Our living standards with others

Once we have to go

There is not special pass

It is the ground we will have to sleep forever

Nothing will matter it is done and gone