Nothing Seems Wrong

Slow I wail on the road of no return Like a soul that departs from its body with no respect Silence I talk to get To soothe the pain I didn’t prepare In the jungle of no trees I sit To prepare for my last breathe I take Mother! Mother! I cry Thunder storms that wawl Slow I speak but distance death drags me on Help! Help! Help! I pull But in the midst of no where I creep My last respect they give But silently I sit to weep Very well they wish I match on But poorly I know I live on Mansions I suffer to build But in the coffin I didn't prepare to live Nothing will ever seem right In this game of no fame