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The Gods would not listen to my fevered, pleading prayers; as I
whimpered kneeling at the altar; my heart was burdened in great despair as I
clung to my book of faith
My spiritless soul cried out in anguish, what hell, what wrath am I
to be condemned too?
Who is my guardian; the doors to heaven have been slammed and locked
against me, turning me away?
Where is my savior?
Oh, the prying eyes of the judges, my peers, pronouncing my
sentencing, and it weighed heavily upon my broken being; they grinned and
snarled with hands outreached grasping for the remains of my meager offerings
Take what I have I beg of you, my last few pieces of gold, and allow
the passage back to where it all began, crying in the cradle!
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