Sorrow fills my song, delicate and weak
They were ripped away, into the quiet
Though it be not vengeance for which I seek
For those who stole, must now quell the riot.
I had thought that life, would embrace beauty
Had the chance been appointed to teach song
But alas I have failed in my duty
Though upon me, there falls no blame of wrong.
When my own kin are held out of my reach
Never to be taught or shown how to sing
Then who upon me, would the blame impeach
When they despair like a bird with no wing?
But to myself I still direct some blame
As I forfeited my songs and my soul
To one with neither pity nor due shame
Who transformed the gold of new life, to coal.
Could any forgiveness be thus granted
That a second chance could still be given
That the songs of old could still be planted
So this discord away could be driven?