When something is dead and buried, many think of that thing as historic. Often that very thing comes back, seemingly out of nowhere. This thing may have been "dead" in the literal sense, but it had also been lingering dormant in a world inaccessible by our bodies or minds. This thing comes back fighting and it kills ALL OF US, so that we are now “over”. We become mere bone fragments in the colossal carrion of western history.
There is another way.
If laid to rest with enough ceremony, skill, professionalism, and courtesy, we shall almost surely arrive at the Necropolis safely. Eventually we will return, like Osiris himself, radiant with the light of the fucking rising sun.
We endeavor to take the corpse of guitar music and to remove all its vital organs, aside from the heart. We will leave the heart inside of the guitar music so that it may be judged properly by Osiris and be united with it’s Akh in the City of the Dead.
Hopefully, in several thousand years, when electric instruments are antiques on display in a very large virtual bitmap museum in the computer chip inserted into the brain of a cyborg, a secret incantation shall be chanted. The corpse of Guitar rock will be resurrected, it will bust out of its coffin, and it will initiate a vengeful assault on the decadent, sinful monoculture of the future. The secret incantation will be written by the Tokeleys, and it will be like a medley of all the words of every Tokeleys song strung together with homonyms, puns and wordplay.<
Inca Mummies at nationalgeographic.com