For pain doth cometh when must I confess, that I am not discernibly the best, despite efforts, exhausted then, unless soon I surrender this eternal quest. And what is a road less traveled by, if thou dost not get to a destination? And so often do paths end at a cliff, that I’d rather accept my damnation. But what is life without being alive? T’is a song, sad without word or meaning, and even if words come, those which that I’ve lusted for, light, shining on my being, I contrive, nothing of this world hath worth, For in the end, we all turn back to earth.