Les Esprits Souffrants

Floating in the air
As formless spectres
Born through death
Cursing their sad destiny
That never seems to be possible
Filled with envy and rage
Towards those alive

Driven by lust
That's never satisfied
Longing to feel
Things now lost
Pouring their venom
Into the victims' dry throats
Living through them
To feel once more

Difficulties too harsh
No reason found to continue
The journey as a stranger
Peace lies beyond the cold soil

River of blood
Did not carry far
Chains too strong to break
Still bound to suffering

Endless stream of images
Tormented by those last thoughts
Of fear and doubt
No peace found under the cold soil