DEAR LORD
Don’t make me righteous person
In dark eyes of people
Neither because I’m prestigious
Nor for my dirty earnings
Let no one leave a seat for me
Much less a front seat
Your church fast for me
Not with mask on
Don’t make me Mr. Perfect
The saint I can never be
Be my guardian angel
My only companion
Get rid of my mask
Walks me head down
Conceals my goodness
Reminds me of the death
Grants my heart’s desire
Remarks all my wishes
Not because I deserve
Do these out of mercy
Let me do great good
Removes my tongue thereafter
Makes me a good person
Place my death into living