The dying word of dead men tenfold and thrice day then down in summer fields flushed bright and green. The Dying thoughts of dead men obstructed by forever regret across the painful lips drowning in their nerves.
The Dying sights of dead men as life succumbs to dark eyes desperate to be more than this as they smoulder out their spark. The Dying touch of dead men who soft caress the earth their skin inhales the material plains as Death giveth them rebirth.
They Dying breath of one dead man his last action of this world as life and love and sense depart to show the earth's grand unfurl