The dark alley,
Its ***** ground,
The sad children
With hungry sound.

This was my morning, afternoon, and night—
This was my life.
Of mud and mice.

Now, I lie on beds like clouds,
Wear clothes fit for kings,
And eat meals of gods.

Yes, I live a life of envy.
But at what cost?
My pure hands now stained with blood,
My soft heart turned to stone.

Yes, I have it all—
But at what cost?