Centurion

Lying on sticks and vines Praying for peace of mind Looking on, waiting for the road To carry you milk and gold Hanging around with a hollow eye Wasting away, with a spear in your side Viciously toiling in the sand Leaves you with tattered hands Nervously choking on the rind 'til there's nothing left inside Wasting around with a vacant eye Burying the bones, with a spear in your side