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
