My mind could not conceive
for what crime I had commit
upon judgement, to receive--
what punishment I was befit.

And yet I am to blame
for something I cannot name--
and you all the while proclaim
it is I who is profane.

But I was made to believe,
made to grieve
for whatever I had weaved
that I knew not of having achieved.

Oh, how I did submit
I wept--in nightmare I slept
to crime unknown I did admit
cruel "justice" I did accept

Where can I find reprieve?
If of your grace I am unfit,
for some things I cannot tame?
who then between us is truly inept...?