A man who prays
Can never be disgraced;
Better is he than his mates.
When his weakened knees hinder his pace;
When his gaze darkle with the rays,
And his dreams they seem to erase,
If only he can be filled with rage;
A desperation that invokes change,
Lamps on his feet shall be placed.
They shall enlighten his ways,
To order his steps from the chaos of this age,
And his mouth shall be filled with praise