i feel the scorn of nations, the loss of ambitions.
i slink in spite of victory, break in fear of glory.
i am nothing i was ever meant to be, broken and blind i cannot see.
hell grasps cold hands round my throat, yet i breathe and i gloat.
what am i but a hypocrite; a broken, lying thief?
i stand astonished at complexities, yet laugh at extremities.
hell burns my vision, and smoke eats my lungs.
i scream out to the maker of heaven and earth; oh my God!