The thing I love and the thing I fear,
Both are the same and both are near.
What I hate and what I hold dear.
Is what makes a small little tear.
I can't stand it; I don't know what to do.
Because what I love is oh so true.
What I hate is what the saints all knew.
That in the world, evil grew.
What is dear, I know I must hold.
Because what it is, is good I'm told.
My hate is what the world thinks is bold.
Corruption and destruction is why its so cold.
As I pray, I might as well rot.
Because in this world, its all I've got.
The evils of this world, affect me naught.
Of what I have, hope is a lot.
