I am going
I am leaving
I can’t stand the thought
Of self-deceiving
How would I reach myself
With a voice on my shoulder
How should I find new wealth
As I grow older, and older
Where is the reason
Of the seasons left behind
Tell me of the treasons
For the likes of my kind
I am going
I am leaving
I go without hope
In deep, deep grieving
How would I preach to myself
With a show on my shoulder
How could I regain my health
As you grow colder, and colder
Where is the crimson
Which the kings left me to find
Pray tell me of the gym run
With the slopes which may be less inclined
