Crawled uP in a corner
under a blown roof...

A misty morning,
out of many...

I have my arms outstretched
under the dark horizon...

What have i done
to deserve...

Drunk bastards,
picking up guns...

Walking in the shadows,
Hiding away from the fears...

A thousand winters
and a hundred summers passed...

I seek answers
to the lies...

Money floating in the air
people walking in utter despair...

An orphan child,
to me the world is cold...