I robe myself in secrecy, a mendicant of old-
The alleys close about me, I shiver from the cold-
I await the pitied grace of the sweepings of the street- A sparrow in brown I wander, the grounds of the wake-

[The] destitute are lined before me,
Stretched skin and frightened eyes,
Disheveled faces turn to me,
The mendicant who stands alone,
A Priesthood we must form here,
Brotherhood of Opened Eyes,
Words fall upon deaf ears,
Trampled down beneath their fears-

The faces fade before me,
Disappear into the mists,
The brotherhood that never formed,
Died a child in its crib,
The failure wrecks my insides,
Rips me up, inside out,
My soul it twists in fury,
If not me then who will help?

I robe myself in secrecy, like mendicants of old,
The alleyways close in on me; I do not feel the cold,
A beggar priest I’ll never be, through the poor I’ll never speak,
I need to find my centerpiece, the anchor of myself-

I look down upon these ragged men here,
These beggars, drunks and sad old fools,
Dragging skin and rancid clothing, Drunken eyes like watery pools,
It’s then I know what I was meant to do,
There can never be a Brotherhood,
These ignorants are just like the rest,
They’ll never see the disgusting truth,

I walk alone now, there is no other way,
My broken spirit must be repaired,
I have been called but I have been misled, I won’t fall away again,
It’s now I see what I was meant to do,
There can never be a Brotherhood,
These ignorants are just like the rest,
They’ll never see the disgusting truth,
I’ve been a fool, Walking to my death,
I cannot wear these robes full of regret...

I... am no beggar priest...
I am no beggar, Nor am I a saint, I’ve never seen the statues bleed for me...
I am no beggar priest!