the corpses in mud so corrupt and alluring
as relics of the sinful saints from times past
this land is a grave so boundless and vast
I have yet to grasp what it is obscuring

the blessed and the cursed are amassing
speaking in tongues only they comprehend
do they sing praise of their sins or repent
perishing again with each moment passing

I have finally fallen and won't rise to stand
alas understanding the language of death
though I cannot recite it in life and in breath
for I have now perished and this is my land