A sheep drowned whole
in color black.
Stripped clean of all,
naught but his soul.

My blood has robbed
All past power
My blood has pushed
Off Babel's tower

Alas my castle
a cage has turned
for my deliverance
my spirit yearned.

The time of which
I may once leave.
The time of which
My burden heave

The sheep's spirit
in tatters lie
in color black
the stench of dye

He was never this way
He grew into position
He was never this way
he once had better disposition.

The sheep he screams
as the dye once again nears.
This time with a stench
Of unmistakable permanence.