These shoes on my feet, I don't need them

walking barefoot, I'll have no shame

And the snacks in my bag are for you, dear

as long as it eases your pain

I'll carry the weight on your shoulders

to take the pain off your back

And if that makes me Atlas, it's fine

as long as it's pain that you lack

And that knife in your side, stab me

and the ache in your sould, let it have me

And if that makes the pain of your life go away,

then please, let the inferno at me

Take the clothes off my back

and the fruit of my life

In return, I'll take your bullets

so hand me that knife.