If I am born that which I be, let not your anger burn toward me.
Or was I heir, bequeathed to me, or am I cursed, that which I be?
How long alone must I need keep, my flesh it starves, "thou shalt not eat".
myself I see, a same my treat, a life of shame accursed to reap.
And when my weakness weighs on me, and venture out, to let it be,
and though I tremble, before Thee, I yet dare ask, for your mercy.
I found a needle in the hay, it pricked me hard, there where I lay,
the laborer came, and had his way, and for his cargo, a full days pay.
But even if the treat not been, you saw it all, my heart and me,
my thoughts and motives against thee, when all I seeked, was to be me.
In love or not, the same to thee? And so
I live in misery.
Let not thy wrath come unto me, if I yet breathe, life is of thee.
In younger times I'd wake to see, a smile so great, alongside me.
My heart did swoon, instinctively, and all the while, I was happy.
my latter days you turned from me, and left my heart, in misery.
In this I know I'm not alone, now many years alone at home.
Where is your ring, O' door, O' phone? I'm left in darkness, to atone.
Who did it please, when I was born, to do me thus, this curse adorn? For now my heart's, a place war-torn, day in day out, to live in scorn.