Dripping in tears, the scars of the past are unbearable,
No more shall we lose ourselves to anger and drown in hatred,
Our blood cries from the grave with the message of sadness,
I prayed for riches, and achieved success;
All that I touched turned into gold. Alas!
My cares were greater and my peace was less,
When that wish came to pass.
I prayed for glory, and I heard my name
Sung by sweet children and by hoary men.
But ah! the hurts - the hurts that come with fame.
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