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The day of shovels is here

Dig a grave for my soul

Some man urinates on your memories

And while the carpenter makes coffins

And the blacksmith chains

For those who remain outside

Bewept and weary a crowd excretes

Excrements which are laments

Vomits of another's flesh

And all this shit filling lifeless heads

Retching is just the older brother

Of your anterior, hiccup

Asphyxiating memories that creep

And chew your flesh

You scratch the ground

Sacred ground, Dead ground

You find stone and wood

Granite and mahogany

And corrupted flesh but you are alone

Dangle from your brain your memories

Flooding the gloom

In silence you awoke in the night

And you were alone

Alone