The Streets of the Undead

The sky is crying today.
Its children are dying
And no one seems to care.
A haze rolls in under the grey sky
I'm stuck in England on a rainy day,
Walking quietly
For the end of her empire has come.

The people who pass me have no faces,
I see only dark shrouds
Drenched in the sky's tears, and their own.
I stop to ask one of these phantom people why they cry,
She tells me it is becaue they are not alive,
But they cannot die.

I ponder these words
As the woman disappears into the mist.
I huddle in a corner
As the rain falls and the fog thickens.

The truth comes galloping to me on the wind,
And I sob in the cold, unforgiving rain,
When I realize I walk the streets of the undead,
And will remain here eternally, without the power to die.