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