HELP ME WITH THE TITLE

We become so good at building facades we slowly die behind fake smiles and polite lies. Wealth and happiness doesn't necessarily go together.

in tidy rooms

and organized heads

grow wild thoughts

of tragic deaths

from steep cliffs

and concrete tops

fall happy people

with golden clocks

on worn ways

and busy boulevards

walk dead people

with business cards

Author's Note

Well, i find myself rather stuck on the title of this poem. Feel free to leave a comment with a suggestion. If you notice any grammar mistakes or spelling mistakes of any kind, please let me know.