" I’m the flame and smoke
My soul’s about to ash
My heart stone cold
Blacker than coal
Thick as a gash

I put the blame behold
On the one who asks
Sell your soul for buckets of dough
C-notes and cash

I failed to feel the touch
Of an honest hand —
My skin it grows old embezzled with gold
Trembling sand

So I ask myself —
Do I make a stand with the one,
who guarantees a path to the promised land? "

― Soroosh Shahrivar , Letter 19