Would you believe me to be death?
I guess it makes sense
For this reality, truly is hell
But I am a cheater of death
So here I stand;
Amidst the stink of burning corpses,
Dead eyes of starring, children and women,
Alive.
Oh, but how I wish I was dead.
Now, 80 years after,
The smell of burned carcass,
Still clings to everything I touch