In the beginning when I was young, I called you "Father," and you said that I was your son, and we were one. You trusted your work to my arrogant hands, but it didn't fit with my own insignificant plans, and so I ran

Oh, wretched man that I am! Who will deliver this body of death? Oh, I am too weak to stand! How could you love me with all of this blood on my hands?

I pilfered my birthright; I gambled it dry. I sold every good thing that you ever gave me, and I, oh I lied to myself and I said, "my life is my own. I'll do what I wish with it. I've got no sins to atone here on my throne."

You were the innocent, I was the criminal