Count your curses

How many do they number?

Seek your discomforts

Are they unbearable?

How so do we complain?

Our curses are our own

The discomforts ours to bear

The tears our own refuge

In the doom and despair

Our burdens are huge

Our losses great

What will we have to show

When we knock on heaven's gate?

Too few know how to answer

And fewer still believe it

Faithlessness like cancer

And fear like a fever

Drive away those

Who could have had the answer

Pride goes too deep

And love much too shallow

But we've only ourselves

To blame

These things are all ours

Our mortal inheritance

The gift of our imperfect fathers,

And all before us

The sins we grow within us

The hate, lust, greed, and pride are

All ours