Poets of Dirt - Dew-Scented

The gone staying by me

Feeling disease, crying sun

Soil adorning me, preparing to grow

Fever, disgust, dear sigh

Bewatching the truth, morals to break

Catch soon the breeze, immortals

And if my tears were only joyful

I would better rest in silence

Instead of writing down my claims

To pleasure such a lonely road

A sombre tangle to disclose

The damned poets of dirt

Lake fulfilled with sand, prayers of lies

Wishing disease, unholy blue

Is covering meand our sins

Forever gone, trapped in life