Sitting in the middle of the arbor
No one knows why but them
I'm in a heap of trouble
But my fear is drifting away

I see the note in my hand
I life the flap with all my mettle
But only to see a grape vine
Covered in blood

I hear the voices and see the faces
I'm running towards the azimuth
I'm out of breath and there it is
Upon the mast, I see it

I see my shame and what I've done
The heartache and pain I've caused
What is wrong with me?
Why have I been so cruel?

I think back to the place
To the dark, scary alley
They didn't deserve it
I hate being evil, I froze, misunderstood