Once

Once, when I was dead,
And lying still upon a dirty bed,
A hag went through my clothes

Her fingers cracked and dryer than a bone,
I screamed (but just in my head)
This corpse which lay upon a farmers bed,
But my watch, my wallet was gone

She was deceived and disappointed at every turn,
A battle - thats what had passed,
And me just a footsoldier killed in the mud,
With a hole next to my heart

At least thats what it seemed like just at the start,
But the hole was filled by her hand
As she groped around for something she could take,
I guess, the spoils of war
Should just lie back and then complain no more,
So this - could this be the key?
To my general sexual inability -
To feel, the victim of theft
And me without a heart left in my chest