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.