What do you want from my dead?

What do you want from my dead? Their bones are lying in Eastern Europe. Their bones are not spies. Go, pick them up. They will bring you money. What do you want from my dead? They died young. When you steel each little piece of paper I scribble on? So you could be famous and richer. You are all ready very rich. What do you want to my dead? Let them rest in peace. Copyright 2007 Marie Neumann Stephenville, Texas