Underground Shoes Poem by Pierre Rausch

In the days of the crime
We found no one there
Clothes that make 4 parts of it
Whether hill or mountain
Underground shoes
Underground shoes
They inhale it
Some sort of
This happened the first time
The likelihood to the grave
Whether sea or river
Underground shoes
Underground shoes
When you leave it behind
To become one with someone
I suggest you Palm Springs
Did you search me
Where I was searching myself
Did you find me
When I was finding myself
Underground shoes