اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
I sit on a wooden chair
A place with cold grey walls
The sun gives off a faint beam
Which will be destroyed by dust
Nothing happens, nothing
Eyes are swollen
You'll be bound and lost in these walls
I don't know
What has robbed your control
Once more
Rescue from the freedom
I don't know
You rot in your own excretions
No one helps you
The colour of things begins to change
I will go sick
No one's screaming, laughing, crying
The skin is wrinkled
Eyes are wide opened
Forget all thoughts of hope
Caught in this nowhere
Bones will get rigid
Motionless you lay down
On this cold grey stone
