It's too late now to help yourself. Time for the Maker to help himself. It's too late to find your music soul. Please, is there a Promised Land. A music soul rebirth.
Nowhere life is sown.
The shadow of the noose grew long. A sun dial of the time the prisoner had left to live. A self inflicted crime. To pay with death for pain he gave to those he soon will meet. The rope hung loosely round his neck.