Let my body be brought to the wraiths of itself.
Let my body die slow by each breath after a million tiny burns.

Yet why do I hear birds singin in the heavens? Their gentle chirps and squeaks will bring the heavens to display and it is always at midnight when they do this. Always a constant song of the day's romance and hunt and sources of water.

Let the rain fall on our bright yellow raincoats.
Let it the graves be dug and covered.
Let the husbands and wives and children be placed to bed.

We will work through the night with no breaks.
This is life and I live it very well.