They are dead,
They don’t know it.
Since long they have been chasing a phantom,
That they will never catch.
Their entrails are being eaten by venomous worms,
Their bodies are full of dirty things.
In the ignorance they dig their own tombs,
Their blindness makes them walk towards them.
Their sleep is worse than death,
Better to know sudden death than to follow them.
Even the demons don’t want to have them in their evildom,
As their unpleasant smell will lead lose souls away.
Imprison in the walls of stupidity,
They know no more what is meant by dignity.
Dogs urinate with them taking them for barren trees,
They have everything but are nothing.
They are gone,
And their souvenirs along with them.
No one remark their absence,
No sorrow, no mourning.
The ghost is still roaming around,
Other scoundrels running after it.
They are dead,
They don’t know it.
