These are the walking dead
What have you done
Forty-Forty Five
In the past but not forgotten
These are the walking dead
No voice to speak
No room to breathe
Through burning regained freedom
These are the walking dead
Cursed by the flesh
That laid their will upon them
And brought them to their death
These are the walking dead
They roam around the living
With a lesson to present
And all we do is resent
That what came to be
And so we fail to see
The repeating of history
What have we done
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem