For years you're sitting in a coffin Made by yourself Trapped between four naked walls Rusty chains have grown into your skin During the years Is it worth suffering for a deed you have done? But isn't it your own fault that you are in this situation Didn´t you always want out? Out into the wide world to find your own way Chorus Prisoner of yourself Now you're sitting here in this cold dungeon No future a human wreck And what you think? You believe in death that frees your soul of this pain Our pitifull life that isn't a life Only existing of eating and suffering The humid air that decomposes your bones The darkness that rips your mind apart The madness that breakes your neck The coldness that makes you shame The tears that flow down your face like a river Chorus But now youngest son of a poor man Now it's too late for remorse and atonement Now you can only count the days That go by like dried blood waiting for mercy Or dying in your four stone walls chained on your rusty chains That have worked their way to your bones