I’m one of the few in a madding crowd,
as they pour their eyes on me
I shake my head out within the cloud.
To not trust me by sight, but feel the relent
of sacred night.
As I speak not for al;
I have my words not spoken loud.
For this I’m not proud.
You see, the agony that I feel from within
has me cornered in frighten spring.
For I am not with the few
I scream with my soul for you to bow
as I am less I have my thoughts avowed.