Caught between Guillan's tab and your roof toward me
Worn-out sackcloth but the dust is sick of my head
Now why won't I pound a rock on it instead
I've been here, actually

Break this *** and gather all your foes
Oh where is the breaking point of your wooden-crafted nose
A chance to defend my case was gave
But all along I was digging my own grave
Faithfully, maneuvers evading the light bleeding on the sides meanwhile!

Masks of oak and grey forcefully made to wear
Dressed with mocking silk
Clothed like a circus freak
Thickness of sugarcoat make you look like an iron bear

In mud, I'm bedraggled
Blades of shame, I shave my head
My craving for a just right or even perfect bowl of porridge went down to 'what's better than cabbage than cabbage

Why can't I just go back to the fattened calves
Potato salad unshared in halves
To sit like kids beside their father's mat
Praised by aristocrats
Save me! This is a distress signal, not a salute.