Such was him
Behind those bars

He knew of a much further land
Sun red as blood, snow not that white

Not an inch of dust would filter through
Not a single memorie would find him,
there where he was,
deep down.

Though, he coud have, somehow,
might have asked,
"what shall be my sin, dear guard?
That, the one, to me unknown,
which my dreams far away from me hides?"

"Never mind" said the armoured man;
"why should know such a lowlife,
why should know such a piece of trash,
values him nothing more than living, the clues to
his crimes?"

Might he never be back to his country,
might never again see that red sun,
though for sure

Shall he never rest among dust.