Whether the greener side or not,
whether a mountain or a mole hill,
whether a burnt bridge or one intact,
Your sins will always be crawling on your back.
No matter if your bed is made,
nor the box and cans have opened,
not even if you jump that cliff,
Your faults will always follow.
A weight inhuman upon your shoulders,
a horde unseen behind your back,
a mistake inside your soul.