The morning fades
The stains of memory remain
The extreme ways hail the pain
I am bound by my own forged chain.
But the rain will fall on us all
To remind us we ain't no small
And the good shepherd will see
The preservation of a human in me.
Oh, I am not sorry
Of the world's pseudo story
Of me, what I become, what I did
Effusive wishes to make me sick
Good fortune is an evil trick.