I should never give myself time to contemplate my future.

[imric]

I've always served the ones I love
And yet I've nothing of my own.
I planted seeds with faith and love
and harvest nothing - nothings grown.

I look ahead at winter years
and dark'ning skies and hang my head
my failures haunt my every step
who will remember when I'm dead?

Grim and cold my laughter now
Happy thoughts just leave me bleak
Hope? I don't remember how
I fear the things I used to seek.

Alone the way that I will die
Poor and desperate, dark and gray
How bitter knowledge I was right
when none would hear what I would say.