Rushing to meet with fate
Losing against destiny and desire.
Forming alliances with those in need
Yet unwilling to put out the fire.
Nearer, we are to the end
We learn that anger beat a path for us.
Wandering still in aimless circles
Unable to put up much of a fuss.
Don’t turn around, dear child,
They’ll swear it is none but God.
You’ll lose yourself in infamy
Then get beaten with the rod.
They’ll claim you are not worthy
Until you finish all these deeds
The problem with purgatory
Is that always, always needs.