In sorrow shadows make me stay
For creature I've feed
Dark chains hang me under trees 
Of my carelessness
Too poison for living in a fear
Inside the box of pain
Where saint whispers to his slaves [bad word] a part of war

Sand scratches your eyes
The head can't turn the other side
But you have a chance
To guess about main sence

Your future a long ago lives in your body
My steps are printed by bloody imprints
Just look around and imagine what expects us ahead
And now you know what i wanted to tell you

Some people hear me but their heads are full of tv dirt
I will [bad word] your heads until it won't be clean