It's so improbable to find the light
When clouds [bad word] me [bad word] creating hatred scrawl
Streets have nothing more to ask

When I relive this pain
Chessmen have a unique colour
And the clash begins
 [bad word] creating hatred scrawl
Streets have nothing more to ask

I feel all the moves
I know all the moves
But I can't expect them
'cause I'm the battlefield

When I relive this pain
Chessmen have a unique colour
And the clash begins
I feel all the moves
I know all the moves
But I can't expect them
'cause I'm the battlefield

My feeble profile seems to implode
My aural prison [bad word] the perfect hiding place
View is overturning
To this internal Abyss
Where my withered leaves burn
And mirrors have nothing left to reflect
And the clash begins