We are the power of law, and you are wrong -
let this be yours to carry evermore.
The weight will drag you down where you belong,
beneath our feet. The woman will implore
in vain, your friend extend a helping hand,
the gentle one will wipe your sweated brow,
but still you stumble in your journey, and
who will believe your words of comfort now?
Is it fatigue that drops you, or despair
when soldiers rob you of your last effects
and bind you to your burden, leave you there
until the spirit shudders, then defects?
You cannot hear her voice, who from your birth
has wept for you, and sees you laid in earth.