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.