My past forever haunts me,
for I was twice a martyr.
Should I not feel the need to hide?
Am I not to have unexplained fears,
such as fire, execution and the clergy?
Should I not?
Am I not?
My past is me; It rules me,
for I sat on a throne of power.
Do I not have the right to miss it?
Can I not feed the hungry and the poor,
because greedy kings will bury me in darkness?
Do I not?
Can I not?
My past is my present, you see,
for I am weary; my soul is tired.
Will I be granted permission to restore it?
Wouldn't I be careless not to take care of it,
polish it and make it shine like a diamond again?
Will I be?
Wouldn't I be?