Father, that's what he is supposed to be to me. Worse than the devil is how he treats me, you might see.
My empty hands carry along a delicate lily of purity, until the end of my serenity. That was perhaps the cause of his insanity. His lips shoot profanity against his own prejudice, full of vanity.
Never got the hold of the righteous and the wronged. Home is not where I belonged.
My soul's unlovable. My impurity; the only thing culpable.
Please take back your ways to help. I know how the ice surrounding my veins making me weakly vulnerable cannot melt.
But if my heart ever does something I do not will to, hold me accountable. Everything shall then turn understandable.
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