I spin,
Like a candle burning dimly lit in the dark September fields,
Slowly I search the vast horizon,
For anything that looks real,
Or tastes real,
Like a burdened thinker of thoughts, I am lost in the veins a-tossed the grains,
Like fallen Angels these evil's be,
Like dead carcasses' of broken trees,
Or human beings in line for death,
Or death in line to be human,
Can death at all become human,
For you and I,
I'd live to die