Is a corpse still a corpse after it's brought back to life? Is a ghost still a ghost if it's the only one left living?

For a garden this grand, I think we all have to be corpses. You and me, and all the people who could have been our friends if we were capable of such an asinine concept.

[There's an empty smile etched on their face. Like a doll. A toy that's been discarded and left to gather dust.

The flowers seem to grow, blooming at Lazarus' feet. It's an invitation. Be a part of the garden. It's something peaceful, to be condemned to non-existence, a new kind of innocence where flowers can grow and no thought can corrupt you.

A new garden of Eden, forged on the ruins of the fruits of the original. Here lies humanity. They simply couldn't be trusted.]