Surviving in the wilderness, feeding on locusts Chosen and prepared to make the role of a herald Stimulating criticism, calling to nonconformism I throw myself to martyrdom, never losing my mind Envy, hate They look at me as the hunter looks at the prey Respect and fear Some of them think that I am a holy man Challenging the powers, pointing what is wrong My freedom and integrity are pushed into background Cold, in this cell, all alone Righteous but trapped Reconsidering my motives and my actions I would do everything again, possibly more vehemently My imprisonment is an obvious death threat My soul wavers, but my spirit remains strong Sensuous dance, in a sexual appeal An enchantment becomes the tool for my demise Steps precede the sound of a slicing blade strike There is no despair, as I face my life’s end Alive for a while, already without a body I feel my head on a platter