The gray cloud of doubt hangs, storming and loud

over my head on a night I could’ve gone out

but the company out there couldn’t help me repair

the damage that was done to pay my childhood’s circus fare

To add insult to injury, the scars did not come free

They were paid for by my family with the clergy’s guarantee

to save my soul for all eternity

And though doubt I may, make no mistake

It’s not for the sake of my soul that I worry myself awake

It’s the knowing little itch that in my brain there’s been a glitch,

a switch that can’t be un-flipped that leaves me hanging in limbo’s grip,

wondering if this tortured heart was made unlovable from the start

and if there is some cure to make myself again pure

untarnished by the words of Gods or men

all their sins unlearned