For years you're sitting in a coffin
Made by yourself
Trapped between four naked walls
Rusty chains have grown into your skin
During the years
Is it worth suffering for a deed you have done?

But isn't it your own fault that you are in this situation
Didn´t you always want out?
Out into the wide world to find your own way

Prisoner of yourself
Now you're sitting here in this cold dungeon
No future a human wreck
And what you think?
You believe in death that frees your soul of this pain

Our pitifull life that isn't a life
Only existing of eating and suffering
The humid air that decomposes your bones
The darkness that rips your mind apart

The madness that breakes your neck
The coldness that makes you shame
The tears that flow down your face like a river


But now youngest son of a poor man
Now it's too late for remorse and atonement
Now you can only count the days
That go by like dried blood waiting for mercy
Or dying in your four stone walls chained on your rusty chains
That have worked their way to your bones

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