You may tie me down in an iron chain,
And pull its ends with all your strength.
You may use your brutal force again,
And hope that I would die in pain.
You may grind your knife's edge, if you'd like
To behead me, take away my life.
Or even put my neck in a noose.
Try killing me sir, the way you choose.
But haven't you heard of what they say.
This burning flame ain't a giveaway.
You tear me apart, I spread out.
You pierce my heart and I burn aloud.
More you poison me, nearer I reach my glory.
Your hands will burn trying to end my story.
And more and more you'll cry in anguish.
But you see, this old flame won't extinguish.
All fire and blaze, that’s not me.
Sir, you don’t know me in entirety.
Have you seen the lamp in that watchman’s shed?
How it guides him, while he earns his bread.
Or those candles, that stand before God in church?
If the virtues in me is what you search,
In the darkest of darks, you’ll see through my light.
I’ll burn myself to turn your dusks bright.