Ribs are aching
Sound of clinging bone
Running for hope gone
With a pain still aching
It tun like a drum stick
being rolled by a drummer
Every time it run it get weaker
But a bone is just like a stick
Devoured flesh
Hope is gone,
miracle is all it expect now,
As grace as not covered his bones
Never try to run in skeleton
When you can do it with the flesh
which can be feed and watered
On like the bone which late and Dry.