The Rise of October's Sun

I'm drunk of afflictions,  
every lil' bit of joy and elation approaching my  
tent suddenly turns to misfortune,  
eluding disaster is as difficult as the oceans  
going dry,  
when trials,  
temptations,  
hardships,  
troubles and problems come,  
they knock me hard and leave me in pains,  
sorrow and depression.  
 
I'm born for woe like the test of Job's  
righteousness,  
though I'm as filthy as the rags in the bin,  
I'm trapped in a dark tunnel,  
the exit seems endless,  
I cry out for help and the only aid I get is the  
echoes of my traumatic cries,  
sometimes the echoes comforts me with hope,  
at least someone or something is responding.  
 
Child of woe,  
punished for a mate in early winter,  
hatched in the continuity of autumn,  
how was it my fault?  
why me?  
but who deserves it anyway?  
maybe carrying my cross is the only  
justification I can offer- I'll joyfully go through  
the burden.  
 
In my dark moments I see a hole o're my roof,  
a ray of light passes through it to paint my face  
with hope,  
It's morning after a century of nights,  
I guess my mournings are over,  
the sun rises above the horizon like it's a  
Sunday,  
Yes,  
the Opal on my chest finally magnates my day  
to me,  
my true friends remained with me in my  
tribulations,  
I can hardly count one of 'em though,  
the topaz on my small finger reminds me of  
forgiveness,  
I'll do just that to lit the foretold diamond I am.  
 
The woes never killed me,  
I overcame 'em with my hope,