Corpses

Corpses lying on the ground
corpses lying all around
corpses they are corpses which are corpses never to be found
corpses lying by the shore
corpses lying by your door
corpses which when each day passes corpses add to more and more
corpses old and dead and cold
oh the stories they have told
corpses with white hair gray hair the colours of their lifeless mold

corpses back when they were young
baked beneath the tortured sun
mummies gone your pretty boys are now fugitives on the run
they once were young and thin and pale
had a load of shops and sales
decaying earth and bodies oh the bodies now thrown in the dale

a corpse beneath the troubled tree
is fuel for it new life it brings
and in the distance
a nest is made
and happily the last crow sings.