In the time of forgotten time,
By the angry mobs that roam the streets,
At the world and my dad for making be one of those people that roam it,
That some did not see me grow,
Because where do we all end up when we die,
Basically towards anything I touch and see,
To people I don't think deserve to be on this rock of cruelty,
Pressing memories flow through like waves,
Then I forget.
Hes watching and he is also watching,
The feeling of not letting one be on this earth,
And letting one set you free,
On this rock of cruelty.