Ord 2

Every dead is wounded
Every dead is blind

And they are all equal against their kind

We are crawling on our pride

Distunishing between black and white

Fumbling over moments to appreciate

Seeking the stream to an unknown gate

Flowers are not blooming, not even half way

the dead are mindlessly following the majority

Dead bodies are at work everywhere

Look, here, and there, and here and there.

You have placed me in a market

Telling me to choose any of the infinite targets

But I'm choosing the moments to appreciate

Finding the stairs to an unknown gate.