The self that I thought wicked is my truth
What tortures I endured, the guilt the pain
And yet I live, though diffident, uncouth.
And can I now at last begin again?
The violent struggles of the gentle beast
Afraid of capture prison death and more
What i behold seems like a marriage feast.
And of my sins they have not kept a score.
There was no way to judge true right and wrong
I searched their faces and the words they spoke
The truth I see and hear is like a song.
Who was it that burnt men at the stake?
It’s Satan who beguiles us to comply.
If we do our sacred soul will die
How my heart sings 