18 degrees
PyracandaNoone heard the screams behind the doors
of steel
Like a hermetic bolt - it seems.
They lay down the fate of the man who's
cought, inside the cold storaage
His writings give report of his strange
dying way
I've been screaming here for hours
Now my voice is weakening and down to
my bones I can feel the coldness creeping
How long can I last before my blood will
turn to ice and blast my veins
Running round, around and round along the
white tiled walls
Was just a senseless trying of winning time
and warmth
Exhaustion broke the will
Madness closed in
Laughter and cries melt into each other
Illusion telling lies
Impossible to feel the last impressions
He had
Crowing here into the corner
All my hope will disappear
There are voices although I'm alone here,
Alone here with my fear
My fingers, tiptoes everything, I can feel no more
Noooooo!!! Save me from the cold!!!
The gods of frost are sheltering my brain
Oh, someone help me please -
I'm going insane.
Save me from the cold!!!
The men who fouund him couldn't believe
their eyes
It waas so absurd that they had to look
twice.
What's your body - mind or soul?
Is there a difference? No not at all
The surface of this union is all we know
But it's much more down below.
How could he die, although there were
---18 degrees?----