Grave Apparel

Dead skin, brown and broken sits Strung in a monstrous mishmash Trodden down by pompous feet And those that gaze may wonder Why tortured skin should be worn by a fool’s sinister foot The dead era still walks free Rapping coldly on the floor Treading the path of righteousness Though on occasion Thieves set upon this broken body To set it where men do not seek Watching from on high For the dead to reclaim the dead