Gone is gone.

Jim's dead...

Dead Marshes.

So the little poem is called The Dead.

When was the last time you saw a dead newsreader?

Oh, so much death.

The dead ones.

So many dead.

Only dark meat and white meat.

YOU ARE ALL WELCOME Tell me when he comes

Everything's dead, Lincoln.

The Immortals.

Immortals.

The Dead are following.

The Dead?

Nine dead bodies.

200 are dead,

That house of death?

You livies hate us deadies.

The dead know only one thing

It was made by those who are dead.

It was made by those who are dead.

The reporter's dead now.

For the living and the dead,

For the living and the dead among you?

for the living and for the dead?

Both for the living and the dead,

For the living and the dead.

For the living and the dead?

for the living and the dead,

for both the living and the dead?

Of the living and the dead?

The living and the dead,

for the living and the dead?

We bury our dead.

The Dead do not suffer the living to pass.

(Applause)

Um, um...

So much death.

He shall pass the door to the Paths of the Dead.

Every partner he's ever worked with... dead.

How many people did we lose?

Laughs

Speak well of the dead.

Now we fear changes on the map.