With the whispers of dead acompaning me I march,
With the aquitence of these breezes I march,
With letting the doubts out of my body I march,
With every poem running from my heart to my head I march,
With pouring my soul inevery word I write I march,
With my pain running through my veins I march,
With hope in my spirt and anguish in the dirt I march,
With...