The Deceased Man

The false apparatuses are presented on the tiny stage, The surgeons want to shape up your archaic days. The larger your poisons are, The more lethal is their care. You only care for the austere suggestions, I want to undergo your sweeping portions. I want to shake your hand in between infinity, You want to pull me through this lumbering calamity. I am another deceased man in this war, Can you recall the black October? There is so much rapture in the grave, You only yearn to be brave. You are now in a favoured hell, I want to conjure you back and well. I want to bring back my old salvation, Where you were the most cataclysmic passion. I beg you to wait for me in the uninhabited cave, I will converge with you soon where you are already paved. You are situated in your befitting place, There is awaiting you the perpetual grace.