My voice has been cut off from this telephone line we call prayer
My eyes have been blocked by this ray of bright loneliness
My arms, self-amputated, they move like crawling bugs on people's dead faces
My legs no longer move to take bigger strands on earth

No more melody.
Monotony.
Slashed by the unexpected and inevitable nature of fate - my hopes.

Where to find an opening in this endless void?
Face this monotony like you can escape it,
Nobody knows the end to this maze.