Why wish to bathe in fire and dust?
Why feed the war with insatiable lust?
Oh, I did the same
And here I lay,
Grasping onto my final breath
As I gift myself to the earth beneath
No sooner will I plunge into mud and soil
Wrapping myself in a tunic of turmoil
I waged a war through blood and toil
And now I lay in the very soil
In the brink of my life,
In the very soil that I chose to spoil
I’m a demon to these souls above
And just the same to the soil below
Heaven or hell wherever I go
A demon is what I will be
Pure darkness will be what I see
Yet, when I leave what remains of me,
A heartless devil’s withered body
Will be held in guard by the very soil,
The very soil that I chose to spoil
No sooner will I be buried under
I- Wrapped in a tunic of turmoil
But my troubled soul shall ever wonder
In which war
Was my wisdom
Buried into the soil?
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