Wrist soon will bury me Under alive. Assume that culture will comply Exfoliate to breathe. How could You not believe me, oh why? A corbel we are not. This capital so selfish, somehow smooth An unimportant life, is captured by the lesions You won’t hide It’s pulling me, of course it pulls Under our throats. How could You not believe me, oh why? A corbel We are not. The frost bit teeth are so pressured When digging through a mound of what We built. What We built on So cut the bounds, We ventured on No one will contest our arms, no will compress whats ours. I seem to be the least of these. Why don’t You bore me with statue wit? I seem to be the least of these. Why don’t You bore me? How could You not believe me, oh why? A corbel We are not If only earth was just a man, would You swallow him? Would You swallow his life?