They stalked inside the age old tomb

Buried alive, fated for doom,

Barely living, hard surviving

Ages had passed inside the gloom.


Stark white skin like age old leather

Clinging to bones that slowly tired

Eyes hanging low, sunken, drunken

Mouth held in a twisted sneer.


Clumps of hair on clumps of scalp

Yellowed with age like the tip of the Alps

Ripped breaches, shoes gone to waste,

These were the men that lived a disgrace.


Tomb hewn with age and weather

About to collapse at the push of a whisker

Falling fast, raining sunlight

Blithered on the spot, a chance at a new life.