Fillet my heart and sing a song up and down all day long. Speak the wizened words of a fool, Intone to me that i am not but a tool. Fight a battle never to be won, and only end up with a heart torn. Cry futile tears that do no change, to cower as a poltroon under her tone. Life seems not but a burden for mine soul, yet i foolishly wish to go onward. Thou words art comfort, but in a storm. Lead me astray from this plane of mind. Thou may hide me, lead me away. Carry mine mind's burden along the way. Thee and i play, needn't having to say it, until i crack, and thou eyes witness mine grievances with living itself, what i stride through each day, what thou enlightened me with shows the pain of not having ignorance. Afraid to reach for the help of an elder, i side here and cower under mine mind's words, mine life's burdens, unable to sleep due to the dread of she. Uncomfortable, and alone i may feel, pining for the touch of one who cares to hold mine body in her arms. Lest i wake up and see not again.