Who am I?

What have I done with my life?

Have I just existed by and by,

In a state of constant strife?

What does it matter?

It’s too late turn back now.

For I’m more than a weary traveler,

Who’s already made a vow.

The things I’ve done,

Are neither wrong nor right.

But the thread’s been long since spun,

And farther out of sight.