long years and for naught

this stubborn pride seems to lord over me
must I take these losses to the grave?
must they be my name and dress?

     "you've done it once and for all
      marked now for misery and meager"

he calls before God with each mourning sun

     "that soul of yours
       rid yourself its burden! 
       —here, I'll take it"

adding profoundly and mockingly
     
     "my burden too, 
       —is light"

banality is the order of our day
distraction
for to gain an inch upward 
that is infinite loss to the empty prince

hence nothing is below him:
to capitalize Pride 
     in pity and woe
or busy cock 
     with rooster's crow

we manufacture souls 
     whilst demons possess 
and purchase haste
     in the name of rest

this suffering soul down to sleep
     I long to lay it off
how does this go,
     dear Christ 
     "I am sorry for I have scoffed" 
what spells cast 
      how do those simpletons say
salvific chants 
      and devils obey

So be it 
     abara kadabra 
here is my pride
     take it from me
these demons 
     they have busied and bruised me