She came across a hedgehog gently decaying on the berm

Who do I call , she demanded from the crowd

Who needs to be informed? 

Will the next of kin be coming round ?

The cosmos remained silent

No one seemed to know where the responsibility did lie

There must be a form or a call center queue

To return life to this spikiest of shrews

There must be a grant

Or an act of government

To breath the gift of feeling back to the armored little runt

Ongoing eternal life,  is just a matter of mastering the forms

Omnipotent sight , of the helpline hold music cause

God is in his heaven , and make no mistake

God is in his heaven, with his filing system of fate

God is in his heaven, the data is corrupted

God is in his heaven , and so is a hedgehog interrupted.