Caught in the side swipes, attention roulette
We already paid our debt
Label the outlier particularly well
And managed to keep our place

Itching your skin 'til it’s swollen and red
You never remember the price
Holding your heels just to balance the weight
Like only a liar can shake

And you shone in a way
Right through my hands, despite my place
Until you woke from a trance
Echo my fear, it brought you here
So we can fade out

There’s no chance now of a recovery. No matter what sort of thing I do, no matter what I do, it’s sure to be a failure, just a final coating applied to my shame. That dream of going on bicycles to see a waterfall framed in summer leaves—it was not for the likes of me. All that can happen now is that one foul, humiliating sin will be piled on another, and my sufferings will become only the more acute. Living itself is the source of sin.