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.