[Music: McMaster, lyrics: McMaster]
What choice have we but to worship the sun,
Else the idolatry of beauty and the myths of transformation
For a life already laden with every species of failure?
A grasping hand is cracked and leathery to the tough; a voice
Cries not to be abandoned
What choice have we but to worship the sun,
Else the idolatry of beauty and the myths of transformation
For a life already laden with every species of failure?
A grasping hand is cracked and leathery to the tough; a voice
Cries not to be abandoned