I have no legacy,
I have fussing and stretched and torn thanks

I have ducking my head while you beat your chest
Or fear of your razor sharp humility
While trying to hide my own
Which has been muttering ungrateful evils in that quarantined hut

I have no legacy,
You let me speak
And when I take my turn
The words are like dripping sewage
And the next one is a fine and practiced angel

Who worked their whole life just to accomplish some great thing.