In an unmarked grave
A long gone spirit awoke—
Possessing new ambition, it craved,
And its dead mouth writhed and spoke.
The spirit ignited the buried flesh,
And the graveyard earthworms unmeshed.

The corpse faced the rain, and crawled from the ground,
The only land he has ever owned.
Icy, rotting skin brought him immense pain
And a stinging sensation in his backbone.
But he climbed to the surface,
And gave his legs purpose.
He waited excitedly to see the sun,
A chance he was denied once.

But the cemetery filled with strangers' screams,
Their fear and hatred growing supreme.
A corpse had risen from the dead!
The unanimous vote was to tear it to shreds.
Letting that thing roam unchecked
Would result in bloody anarchy,
So they found men with guns to wreck
That threat to the hierarchy.

All the corpse did was reach out his hand,
Trembling still from resuscitation.
Then, he told the strangers that he couldn't stand
To suffer a second rejection.
He had nothing, he explained in a breath,
But his heart prospered inside his chest,
And the burghers that suffocated him to death
Couldn't make his impoverished carcass rest.

But nobody understood his broken words
Because his throat had been shattered for years.
When the sun arose, the corpse glowed
And beamed as his face filled with tears.

It made the strangers satisfied,
To know that thing would soon be gone.
A gunshot echoed and again, he died—
The wrath of the poor corpse was done!
The strangers ran from its unmarked grave
And prayed that the spirit would go
Somewhere that it would be depraved
Of the only land it has ever owned.

At home, they hide beneath four floors of brick
With the burghers, marinating in wealth.
They sit at a mahogany table and lick
Silver spoons, while they cheer for good health.
The earth pays them well, though they never stop to think
Of how she supplies them or whose blood they drink.