I've always wanted to be a writer,
Now I'm just digging my own grave,
Digging and digging and digging,
Deep into the formidable earth,
Soon I'll dig my way to China,
Where I hear they have a lot of yen,
And rice and other luxuries,
Like hundreds of millions of people,
And hundreds of thousands of writers,
Writers that are digging into the earth,
Digging and digging and digging,
Deep beneath the once mighty Yangtze,
Digging for poems and forgotten stories,
Digging graves and tombs for all those dying sacred places,
That once shone splendidly above the yellow earth,
Exalting nature and mighty Emperors,
Delighting billions of Asian eyes,
Marking that wondrous Asian landscape,
Like some great wall,
Built to keep all the writers in,
And to keep another billion eyes out,
Where so much freedom has been lost,
Like so many forgotten poems and stories,
About splendid nature and magnificent Emperors.