It's sad, actually
Me and you artificially bound
Dreaming about freedom
Faces illuminated by a cold light in the darkness
Sharing thoughts without conviction
Like a desperate SOS fire in a gloomy night
It's sad, actually
What happened with that child
That was terrified not by the unknown
Lurking right in front of its bedroom door
But by a burning desire to coprehend it
Therefore, it had the whole world as a playground.
It's sad!