There is something left br In your eyes, they do not lie br I am my. My is something subjugate br To the lower, low me, below br The radar of my adulate – love me br br There is something about you, about br You I will not cry. Find my shirt br Amongst those forgotten, these piles br Of uncertainty. br br Solitude is solace in the eyes of darkness br Below the trite smiles of dictatorship br His hands upon me br His hands upon br Me and thus br br There is something left in my rust br Please find me, find my shirt; I br Forgot the pageant-ry of Christ and I sin br As a man must.