Only the future can say what I'll become.
Will they make a saint of me in the times to come?
Or will I be forgotten like those lost and lonely days?
A mockery of human pain, set forth on history's page.
I shall not be forgotten, I refuse to lose this pain
Even as each year goes turning round again
I will remember pain and fear, I will remember grief
Even if an outcast is what it makes of me.