His heart can't be found,
Sombre, is the mood in hood,
Going from bad to worse bad,
Folded, his head can't be raised,
Not today, not to see the freedom less world,
It died, burried, now it's a skeleton.

Life on this evil land,
Where truth is a mystery,
And evil, is the new mastery,
Tears can't be rubbed off his face,
Lest he ties with his shoe lace
And, he can't find his place,
Evil, pushed his heart away from him, to exile.