I am worth as much as the dead.
From the heart I’ve bled,
For tears I’ve shed,
For hatred I’ve heard, for hatred I’ve shared.
I am worth as much as the dead.
For men who fought and sought the might to end,
For freedom they seized,
For grief they’ve shared,
For sorrow I’ve learned.
I am worth as much as the dead.
For the hatred in my heart,
For no cleansing tool I bear,
To cleanse the heart of all I hate, of all I bear.
I am worth as much as the dead.
For “goodnight” you’ve said, yet all I’ve heard was the song of the dead.
And the dead sang and yelled:
The birds will fly, the birds will chipper to the sky.
The sun will sink; the sun will rise.
From the rotten flesh to the rotten sigh,
Life will forever go by.
And the dead said you are worth as much as the dead,
For from the fight you’ve fled,
From the fight you were scared,
From pain you’ve yelled,
From tomorrow you were afraid.
Now I say: I am worth as much as the dead.
For a song of despair I have sung,
For I weep bare,
For I give up day after day.
I am worth as much as the dead,
For like the dead, I am no longer alive, be it in heart, be it in mind.
I am worth as much as the dead.