I keep pushing the walls back
I might be in prison
But it's not going to be something I notice
There's room for a steer's skeleton head
Birds that scatter the wind before them
And a windmill that forgot how to draw water

Everthing in my head is just a backtrack
I need a new rhythm
Everbody says so but then they lose focus
They talk but end up complaining instead
A prison yard that I invent won't condemn
I'm not gonna' be the one despair will conquer