Abject Surrender
How much hope should I carry
My soul is tired and weary
I have cried as much I could
Were insanity wine, drink I would

How many stations should I walk
My back is sore, I cannot talk
I've done nothing wrong
You won't even hear my song

The blood that trickles from my eye
Does not seem to wash my stye
Thoughts that burn my mind at stake
As they look for answers or a mistake

So if the cup is full I beg,
Face to the ground on bended leg
Release me and let me die
Wretched, torn, no justice on which to rely