A water noise attached to my fragile steps
as I doubtfully move on through the quicksand;
nothing's ahead but despair.
Suddenly I find myself crossing the most depressive scenario conceivable:
a path is marked with the bodies of the unknown, the steel
whispers me: "follow our whistle and you'll find eternal peace",
but peaceless is my fate.
The clouds grew dense and warned us of another tragedy. Dark is the day
in which you'll meet the boundaries of your conscience.
Our sons are waiting in their cradles tonight.
Somebody tell mine that his father fucking died alone.
Now I begin to realize that I'm part of a sacrifice.
This is nothing new for you, so stand up and fight back, stand up to all your fears and you will conquer them all.
And when all seemed retrieved, the sudden hopefulness unexpectedly
turned into an endless battery of sorrow. By the unnatural selection, the
second chance has been given.