This Lama's Not For Riding By David Stansfield
I felt it slip through my fingers
It seared my skin yet I felt no pain
And, as it fell to the floor
I heard it groan like a wounded animal
When I looked down
I could not see it
Hear it
Taste it
Smell it
Love it or hate it
Yet I felt its breath on my neck
As it struggled
To cling on to this lost soul
I used to believe
I used to believe in good and bad
I used to believe in greater things
I used to believe in lesser things
But now
I've lost belief in belief itself
I saw burning on top of the world
I saw looting on the roof of the world
I saw clouds make shapes
Like angry hands
And I listen to the names on the list
As the roll call sighs
When it breathes the names of the dead
There are others
There will be more
If death is a number
Then belief is a curse
Or worse
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