Poor sons and fathers
Burdening one another
With compassion felt by few
Kings of plenty take their lives
With wars of the dying youth
Comrades falling piling high
As they lay in ruins
Bury me alive
Deep inside a tomb
Carry out your life
Dying by her side
Snakes of three
The son stands alone
In the empire having nothing left to lose
Daughters wives become the bribes
And then he faces the awful truth
And then he faces the awful truth
I am buried alive with his bride
Out of the grey stones
These snakes will eat leaves of life
One by one they come through breathing life
Hunger creeps on him yet he never yields
Ignorant and young a son cuts eyes to tail
Death in hand
Death in time
Death of flesh but not of mind