Deep down a dark hole, there sits a boy.
A boy who hasn’t seen any joy.
A boy who has seen the darkness of life.
A boy who has been dragged into the strife.
Although he is around people, who are, let’s say turbulent,
He feels oppressed by them. As if he were subordinate.
The boy stays in the dark hole because that’s all he sees.
Nothing, that’s what he sees, so now he only holds himself with a squeeze.
He has been abandoned.
With the symbol of a grim reaper he has been branded.
Itarow Krähe 