Limping through the forest of life.
Crippled by snares angel-catchers set.
Crouching low under branches,
Pushed to the muddy ground, devils child does.
Blinking to see through piercing rain,
Blinded my cruelty, devils men do.
Lifting hands, cold and blue.
Voice travelling through mountains of life,
An angels voice pleas:
Forgive them father, for they know not what they do.
Let them realise
By crippling angels,
They cripple help asked for.