You wipe your sweat and curse the ground
It curses you
It curses you
And swallows seed that you had sown
And brings forth thorns
Instead of fruit
And sunrise that should bring new hope
That God of suns is faithful
Burns your eyes with each new morning
And warms the blood
In adder's veins
Son murders son
And wife will try to rule you
The seed that she bore
Has borne another thorn
Still there's a heel
That can bear its body's weight
And earn the bruise that you would not absorb
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