"Death of Oneself, God's Given Burden"

The death of those that burn their limbs to black

Dharma is given, but this man gave back.

The town forgotten by the world as is,

to live a life in fire.

The world forgotten as is,

a life of light and one that's dire.

Forging to metal until you reach the sky,

the forge turns ash into mourning,

a corspe to be eaten in the morning

by the same government that let him down,

by his divine will, his blackened crown.

Siddhārtha Gautama rose up from the ground,

and gave the dead the dying crown.

Heavy it was, but what is done is done.

But I swear to you sir, it has only begun.

A revolutionary, or just another man?

Another man, yes another man.

So let him rise upon his grave, his grave his thrown of given days.
The death of those will suffice, give me your life, your sacrifice.