Mortuary Tune Of The Prisioner´s Anguish

Its calling’s so dear...
she leads me through fate, plunges me in eternal silence!!!

Its calling’s so precious…
the farer I went from all, the more I suffered from isolation!!!

Its calling’s so precious…
Can the sharpest pain a person, could know rest on frustration?

Its calling’s so precious…
whispering to my soul ‘take me far from this prison of incomprehension’

Its calling’s so precious…
stars were shining between ripped clouds over night’s sky
tinged with intangible evil

Its calling’s so precious…yyyygggghhhh!!!
The pale light of moon as a fading gleam beneath gray clouds…

Its calling’s so precious…
and the wind howls a mortuary tune…

A thousand tortures for the body can´t be compared (with the prisoner’s anguish)
when he hears the cracking of the whip
Imprisoned in a wrong life he never chose to live!!!
He never chose…

Is not morality as strength of will?
If so, must principles be ruled or must be felt?
NO-ONE could have them,
NO-ONE wanted to feel them
AS I felt theHorror
As I felt the Pain