I left home one summer carring my weakness in my hands,
My feet grew fond of every journey,
As i held my face high above the sea i faced nothing but sorrow,
From that day my future slipped away,
I ploughed my tears in every piece of land,
For that i traded my death for another day,
For one could taste for one could never want onother,
But beneath my luck nothing was a success,
No rain felled and all my seeds were ripped from the ground,
A promiscuous soul lay low from the ground and death blooms from its body.