Skin torn away and muscle fibers frayed
Bones dry rotted and tendons snapped
Relentless digging delivered disaster
But at least I know now
There's nothing special to me
There's nothing special.

So now that I’m broken and alone
Nothing but edge to hone
All that's left is to be the scythe
Unsheathed and bare before barren fields
And I’ll reap what's sown.