I can feel it in my bones,
Heavy burdens to carry.
I can taste it on my tongue,
Different cultures to marry.
I can hear it in my ears,
Foreign words being spoken.
I can see it in my eyes,
The land of the dead and broken.
I can smell it through my nose,
The incense stick lighting.
I can sense it in my stomach,
The start of the rioting.
My brain is getting misty,
It's numb and it's quick,
But when the knife cut my throat,
I didn't feel a thing.