Angry toward all,blinded by sickness of the heart.
A darkness engulfs me,for what is to be my new part.
The other apostles lean in toward the King,trying to grasp even one little thing.
Never again to hear the Shepard's heart.
No glory,no closeness,we are like two roads which depart.
"These goods are for others", the demons continue to pound,like a mallet to an anvil the sparks of hatred and envy abound.
The poison pulsing through the blood stream,shows me no glorious home.
The thickness of the murk like,quick sand enveloping the soul.
It is finished,it is done.
No glory for me the race will never be won.
A tree and a rope is all I have left,I see no other way out of this unbridled mess.