I should take comfort in other's delight
Even when is a curse, a thorn, a blight
I should care less of my petty obsessions
And care more of some good taught lessons
But a heart when wicked and slave to envy
Will hardly care to feel kind and friendly
The soul still craving for rotten memories
Won't rest nor cease to cry in agony
My hands are heavier and my thoughts grow weary
My eyes only sensible to things too much eerie
How could someone see in my broken features
Anything more than a sad, lone, creature
So the course is set, my fate fixed
I'll beg for any joy as an old fool crippled
I won't ask for more than I deserve
for one is pleased, so pleased to serve
