coup de grâce
Oh woe that I would do my damnedest, pull these bootstraps high and hard.
Dig my way out (even deeper), shovel debt from inch to yard.
Oh dread is me that in my pride, I might drink my just deserve.
And in my lowly merit may, look to self as soul's preserve.
Oh what a weighty burden what lofty wanton stack,
What a wretched kindle pile double high upon my back.
Oh how the potters field gapes wide with hunger night and day,
And for a million lifetimes toil, I could not hope to fully pay.
But you say "Son put that shovel down I will take the load from you.
I paid complete what you owe, there is nothing more to do,
It is finished! past present future full."
I say, "I don't deserve..." And you reply "I know."