an old man said to me
you can bury your ghosts
for your past is spent
and your new pockets are empty
and no man can judge a poor mans wealth
for his pockets are made of gold
but dont be greedy to reach down and grab
for your thiefs dissapointment
due this no named man got gold in his hand
spilling from his head
with not a single thread
but his knee to tread
from the muddy water so deep
where the poor fools sink
who stripped the man of his skin
long ago with his kin
say goodbye to these short faces
the skin will stretch to win the races
but not a man nor soul will win the race
if one doesnt bury his ghost
in this soon forgotten place