I walk the miles,
ruining smiles,
people throwing stones;
I find the hours,
failing powers,
spiteful hateful man.

A lazy man,
adoring fan,
watched God with pride;
yet his lord,
wielding sword,
slices low and wide.

Ice-age glacier,
species erasure,
nothing here for me;
I am above it,
I am summit,
I am Lord to thee.

Bow before,
come adore,
all smitten by my grasp;
death to all,
'gainst my pall,
striking as an asp.

And still...

I walk those miles,
body piles,
bearing a disease;
I am true;
Lord to you,
it is I you must appease.