Let me worship at your fountain.
                Let me whisper in the morning.
                Let me be all that I want to.
                Let me echo in your head.

                Let me climb upon your mountain.
                Let me give you words of warning.
                Give me something to hold on to,
                because I'm sure I'll soon be dead.

                Now I stare into your eyes.
                Now I see your mocking face.
                Now I see what lies behind me,
                and I fear what lies in wait.

                Now somewhere a baby dies,
                somewhere something's out of place.
                Somewhere something tries to bind me,
                and it fills my heart with hate.

                Why must I beg?

                Morat the Black [CHAOS CT] '93