For bread and wine I toil about
I put in work and gather dust
My face is drenched from harvest time
Winter comes and I don't rest
The workload's constant for fallen man
Who groans about in fallen world
The burden I carry is on my shoulders
Where sins of past have made their home
Love is scarce but calls me back
To happier simpler prosperous times
Before my work was done for others
Before I had to repay my debts
Now I'm living for myself
The walls and ceiling are my friends
A prison without locks is where I am
Looking for peaceful rest upon my bed
Tormented by coldness I stutter and turn
Into the void I direct my heart
Far from toil and labour and travail
I take what's mine and give it away
The world receives from my cold hands
My soul departs for resting place
Now I'm dead I can rest in peace