Why is it so

That this accursed depressions haunts me

Like the spirits of a decadent mansion

Where is my virtue?

Why is it so

That melancholy chokes my heart

Like a wire garroting my throat 

Stealing away the air that I breathe,

Suffocating my windpipe

Where is my virtue?

Oh Azazael, why is it so

That we mortals are so feeble

When it comes to having virtue?

Take these fools into hell, Lord Azazael

For the know not of virtue.