| Assail me and tear me in your anger
|
| All was once well with me, but I’ve led myself here
|
| My pride pulls. |
| Constantly beckoning me to be something that I’m not
|
| If I say: «My hope is in the grave» and to corruption, «You're my father.»
|
| To the worm, «You're my mother» if my hope is in the grave, then what is left
|
| for me?
|
| «Did you forget what it takes to walk away? |
| And did you forget I will never
|
| take you past the palm of My hand?»
|
| And I am overcome. |
| What miserable comforters in the arms of sorrow
|
| With every wound sanctity diminished. |
| With every scar I feel my soul retreat
|
| Oh earth, do not cover my blood
|
| May my cries never be laid to rest
|
| But if I speak, my pain will not be relieved, and if I refrain, it does not go
|
| away
|
| «Did you forget why I’ve put you here? |
| And do you even want to know what it
|
| means to be alive?»
|
| Have we forgotten? |
| And what will be left?
|
| .the pull of my pride takes me away |