We Speak for the Dead

We speak for the dead. We'll scream with the ones you buried.

Take our breath. We'll breathe for the dead and the weary. Yeah!

Ink-soaked bones rattle deep in the ground. Phantom verses claw up without

sound. Graves crack open beneath our feet. Every murdered poet begins to speak.

Flesh decays but the message survives. Their tortured truths still claw for the light.

We are their vessel, we are their drum. Words of the

slaughtered now thunder like guns. We feel their rage in our veins.

We hear their hymns through the flames. We speak for the dead.