O! why was I born with a different face? / Why was I not born like the rest of my race?

Tools were made and born were hands; every farmer understands.

If others had not been foolish, we should be so.

Every Night and every MornSome to Misery are born.Every Morn and every NightSome are born to Sweet Delight,Some are born to Endless Night.

Can I see another's woe, / And not be in sorrow too?

My aim for the rest of the season is to be challenging for race wins and podium places. That is all I am focusing on,