Encore

There is a very simple remedy
To the sickness of a soul; though imperfect
And probably subtle in its course
But I shall tell you nonetheless.

Listen to the dirt
That clings to the damp soles of your shoes
For they have; probably unintentionally
Learned your destiny

For they comprehend the weight
That you carry
Upon your shoulders; and perhaps even
The gravity of your offenses

One must also seek guidance from
The dirt that settles 'neath one's nails
For they have; probably unintentionally
Learned your fate

For they understand
The gravity of your offenses
And the frailty of your grip
The stories of those that you have held; and lost.