What a horrid thing,
It stabs every back,
And breaks every wing.
The traitor is the one you hate,
The one you cannot compensate,
You had trusted him all your life,
But he has put you into endless strife.
Why do people betray for each other?
Would it be for their own whim?
Why do they beseech each other?
Would it be for their light's dim?
I have been betrayed enough,
By those squandrous incompetent fools,
They have stabbed my back far too much,
With their incestuous, lecherous tools.
I cannot ...