Their spirits are tired,
Their spirits disfaithened
Can not so remember
Why they are, are so parched.
This soul that does wander
Hops bodies forever.
They hope to find one shell
Filled Full to quench their thirst.
A people so angry
Has become cynical.
Bodies don't remember
The feats of old lives.
Like old men are old souls,
So medicine drugged up,
Bitter in tiredness,
Stubbornly they unchange.
In anger I'm waiting
For one life more suiting,
Not inevitably.
Maybe I'm trapped here in
Here in this body thing.
I can not stand my luck.
A spirit unfitting
Cursed men and women both.
I can, atleast, dream of
Something my memory
Is sure to be clear of.
Future brawls in bodies,
Pasts I can't be sure of,
Warriors that I was,
Brains that I did mess up,
Were all my souls doing.