I Take Pity On Myself Poem by Mark Heathcote

I've endured days, manifold
I've encountered winter's cold
I've cried love cajoled

But I've never surrendered yet?
I've wished I were dead.
But there's always a watershed.

When you praise the lord
You've paid your last debt
You no longer dwell on regret

I've stomached heartache.
That would starch your blood.
And leave you heartsick.

I've suffered countless betrayals.
I've grieved like a hound baleful.
I've howled, hymnal for a woman's love.

And hit my head on every rainstorm cloud
Oh, praise the lord
'I take pity on myself.'

Oh, praise the lord.
Tomorrow is sweeter, filled with light.
And I feel like painting the town red tonight.

Till it's time to wave goodbye
And say goodnight!
Would you believe me, 'the winner of a prize fight? '