Harnessed outside the oxes are waiting Anxious and restless they're pulling their chains Sounds of the porous and blackended bones breaking As men carry out the noisome remains Stench from the dead is filling the open As burden so heavy is dragged into the light Carriage is squeaking and bad words are spoken Oxes will carry the corpse into the night A new grave is dug, meant to appease him Meant to give end to the anguish and pain Stones weighing down the atrocious and grim The burial bed of the bloodless, insne For as long as his son is alive he will sleep Giving his people the peace that they wanted But the last son will die, his dried mind will weep And his frightened environs will always will be haunted