never asked you for a thing   yet you pushed me aside   on bended knee I served   and that day was the birth of a slow death   defiler I was meat at your table   I would pay not to fall from your grace   my blood and my tears were tokens   I was waste to be expelled   to you I was just a number      forgotten on the chopping block   my blood flows like any others   to find pleasure in my disgrace   you held my life in your hands   your exceptance the air I breathe      day after day I always wonder   will I exhaust myself   from this effort cursed to an existence   of being drawn to you   grant me tomorrow or let me die      your expectations grip my throat   and choke my very life   everyday that you appear   I succumb to your pleading   will this be the day of intervention?