About his death I'm telling the truth
I felt in the deep of my heart,
But I wash my soul
Because only shadows should crawl
A good intentioned person
Doth not hide himself
Wherefore I denounced him
At this same supper
Whence thou not eat, but thou art eaten
'Tis we art hunters, nevertheless
When the darkness hit our eyes and
We come back to dust
The main dish for the worms
We become
They canst even
Take away my mind
But I know death
Is just a part of life
We use living creatures
To put on some weight
But at the end, the worms do
The same with us
There's no difference,
We art nothing but food
A fat king, or a thin homeless
Destined to the same table is, 'tis the end
I see on thy face
Thou hast aversion to my words
The truth is only accepted
When convenient 'tis
We do not accept it
When it brings changes
And I'm not saying this in order to shock
But to show that
A king canst travel to
The bowels of a homeless
Take it easy,
Thou will discover the old man's body
After a while, when thou follow
The stairs that lead to the gallery
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