Not one whisp of hair in my face,
Though time flowed my disgrace,
From humble hovel to estate building,
Letters from sand retire to guilding,
We make no promise of tomorrow,
We lead the way for others to follow.

You're feeling true my lesser friend,
I'm the gift no God would send,
The shadow that falls between your eyes,
The hand that falls between your thighs,
You said follow, and I led the way,
The journey is a minds price to pay,
I pay not as you learn to swallow,
A God of blood for you to follow.