Never did I belong in this patch
the hatch of lies and misconception
where ice covers all there ever was
where maps are painted, never was
the touch of grenades and bombs
as tombs and gravestones stomps

Never did I belong in this patch
the coded identity, the spirit implosion
where ice covers all there ever was
where the hyperbola sits ever alive
on the mouth of the North Pole
as distance lands remains unreachable

Never did I belong on this patch
the production zone of slave machines
where we labour and bore workers
where institutions are unfunctional
feeding loneliness to the masses slowly
as the truth remains covered inside ice sheets