Brothers, carry out the autopsy gently
That corpse was a rich man's residence
The carcass was never an ordinary body
To be hacked and dug upon
As though it were a piece of log

Brothers, be gentle and handle the corpse tenderly according to his wish
Give him a sense of dignity and opportunity
to let the whole world know that
no ordinary soul has been lost

Brothers, no part of his intestines
must be be given away to the starving VULTURES after the embalming
Behind the illusive past
of this precious corpse was a real man
who left hefty chunk of assets behind
and arrows of wealth shall
seize not to sprout upon them

How he hated
the autopsy
the cruel hands of the pathologist
the embalming
the unfeeling hands of the mortician
BUT he loved the hearse and
the comforting hands of the family members
who would come to devour
food at his funeral

Brothers, it's a pity
I am devoid of influence
To disengage this dictator's persona
from its dry corpse
I would have showed
him the bankrupt nature of its dead host;
Bankrupt both of life and in wealth
How awesome it would feel
To let him observe that
All the lifeless loser did a lifetime was to chase wind
I would invite him to laugh at its helpless corpse till the lungs hurt and ribs ache
To laugh at how the stolen wealth are of no benefit to the desperate carcass
that is now being buried in a hole dug by the poor VULTURES
that all his life he stole from
I would then end my story
With the darkest
And possibly the saddest word I would think of
About the follies of his life upon the life of the poor man that now seals his coffin and lowers it to the tiny grave