- cifra
I am a prisioner
In a dark jail called mind
I feel memories colliding against the walls
Of my brain
So many places and facts
So many faces in all around
Rotten portraits from a distant past
In cold chains
They testified my crimes
Nobody can hear the silent shout
Of another name written in the black tome
Of damned souls
Nostalgia is a trap
Undead voices inside my head
Unconsciously created to keep me far
From neurosis
Hallowed be the future
Uncertain chapters sang by the angels choir
A lost ship in the ocean of the chronicles
Of my life
Walking through the factory town
Nobody can hear the silent shout
Walking through the factory town
Nobody can hear my silent shout
