Pandemonium

As god is my witness
I  stand upon the fire
My feet hurt by them
It burns off my soul....
The anguish cry of my soul
too sharp. . . too piercing...
It hurts my own ear drums!
The doom is upon me. . .!
why, o why, i wounder,
the pandemonium choose me??!!
I curse my karma. but all
that came out is more cries. . .
Help me o help me!
pour out your  mercy!
oh thou most gracious, 
most merciful 
show me a little of your mercy. . .

An Irish Blessing Song

May the road rise to meet you.

May the wind always be at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face,

And the rain fall soft upon your fields.

And until we meet again,

May the god hold you in the palm of his hand.