I'll have to admit, though
I'm breath and shape and clay
my soul's ready to go
my body's here to stay

and Kerioth's my town
thousand years behind
at the break of dawn
there I'll myself find

potter's out of sight
phony tithes are paid
vogue, our current plight,
sways the barber's blade

sin of all the time
present in my chest
as some unslaked lime
sin of holiness

although I was wrong
altogether late
you cheered up my song
dared to change my fate

time and time again
broadening my path
showing no disdain
exposing no wrath

wait a minute… sigh
there's a lurking hater
does this being high
cost being low later?