[Intro]
[Upright piano marks a slow funeral march while a metal desk stamp answers the frame drum.]

[Chorus - Anubis, deep male baritone]
At the funeral home by the highway,
White lines pull the living away.
Chrome trucks groan and the streetlights wait,
But every soul still has a weight.
At the funeral home by the highway,
Death clocks in at nine each day.

[Verse 1 - Anubis, deep male baritone]
Gray morning leans on the service road,
Rain taps Morse code on the hearse below.
I turn the key in the tempered glass,
While fuel and freight and the mourners pass.
The coffee is weak, the carpet is brown,
A plastic saint keeps looking down.
My name tag reads “Andrew,” neat and small;
Three thousand years reduced to a call.

[Pre-Chorus - Anubis, deep male baritone]
The telephone rings, the printer wakes,
The ledger yawns and the stapler shakes.
I smooth my cuffs, I seal my fate—
Every soul still has a weight.

[Chorus - Anubis, deep male baritone]
At the funeral home by the highway,
White lines pull the living away.
Chrome trucks groan and the streetlights wait,
But every soul still has a weight.
At the funeral home by the highway,
Death clocks in at nine each day.

[Verse 2 - Anubis, deep male baritone]
I once kept watch where the black Nile bent,
Where cedar smoke through the chambers went.
Now Susan from Sales leaves forms on my chair:
“Initial each box. Confirm the fare.”
The lilies are molded, the candles use wire,
The chapel flame is an LED fire.
Still, when a family enters slow,
I hear the old underground river flow.

[Pre-Chorus - Anubis, deep male baritone]
A widow signs where the arrows point,
A son asks softly what the casket costs.
The prices rise, the voices break—
Every soul still has a weight.

[Instrumental Break]
[Cello carries the descending three-note motif as passing trucks pulse beneath the frame drum.]

[Bridge - Anubis, deep male baritone]
No pyramid stands at Exit Nine,
No priest pours oil, no stars align.
Yet grief arrives without disguise,
With unpaid bills and swollen eyes.
So let the manager count his gold;
I know the measure the dead still hold.

[Buildup - Anubis, deep male baritone]
I button the jacket, straighten the room,
Open the curtains, prepare the gloom.
The highway shudders beyond the gate—
Every soul still has a weight.

[Final Chorus - Anubis, deep male baritone]
At the funeral home by the highway,
Where no god’s name appears on the doorway,
I guard the hush while the streetlights wait,
For every soul still has a weight.
Let the trucks run late, let the invoices wait—
I keep the threshold, guarding the gate.

[Outro - Anubis, deep male baritone]
The OPEN sign flickers against the rain.
The telephone rings.
I answer again.