What would thou think of me tying rope to the tree?
With every strike mine own sword stabs back at me.
Perhaps I will let mine enemy pierce me,
For I can go on no longer.
Each day I sharpen and shine my blade.
And each day in its reflection I see myself fade.
If only the Fades could snip mine tarnished thread
And leave me strewn among the field with the other soldiers lying dead.

I look to the heavens; may He guide me.
But all I see is the rain.
There is no peace awake and no peace in sleep,
Where in mine dreams I see their blood and weep.
I think to fall from thee, my mighty steed,
And feel thy hooves trample o’er me.
For I can go on no longer.
Each day I look back wishing I could have stayed,
And each day to God I have prayed,
“If every man has a purpose, why have thou made this mine?”

Perhaps this time on the battlefield I shall faulter,
Knowing my dear daughter shall never know her father.
For I can go on no longer,
As each day the gap between us grows wider,
And each day to God I pray,
“Why has thou taken me away?”

I am drowning,
And in my mind they are screaming.
I am crying,
And in my dreams they are bleeding.
My heart drumming,
And with every beat another life I am stealing.

Am I one of God’s mistakes?
Shall I step into the lake?
Feel the Lady’s sweet embrace?
For I can no longer bear to see my own face.
If there is God in heaven, would he even let me in?
Shall I let the arrows pierce my skin?
For I can go on no longer.