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?