As I march through this life
A captive to my fate,
Each step a painful burden
It takes all my will to bear,
My desires turned to hopeless longing
Inside the fetid tomb of my heart,
The breath of God behind me blowing
My eyes scorched by the flames of Hell in front,
You, muse, are neither angel nor devil,
A vapid trace of what I once heard in passing,
A drop of water in a towering conflagration.
As shadow and flame consume my vision,
You leave rose petals behind me in the path I tread
To serve as guide for those who wish to know
How I met my end, and what I said.
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