My eyes, laden with sand, brush over the finery of this world.
Too, comes the notion that I may belong.
To a community, to a state, to a people and to a universe.
A walking corpse I am.
To the souls lost in war, to the people lost to themselves.
Safe be sound, and may Heaven welcome even the most ungrateful sinner.
I am not a religious person, I am me.
A walking corpse in the river of death.
Life beckons me to it.
Calling my name, and suddenly, I remember.
I remember that I am an angel.
I remember, remember my name.
You may laugh and you scorn.
But I know, I know deep down we will meet again.
A walking corpse I am.
Do not shun me, do not hate me.
I have as much right in this world as a human being then you have as a false god.
A walking corpse I am.
