What is this strange noise I hear?
Is it singing or screams of pain?
What is this strange smell I sense?
Is it food or traits of death?
I can't tell, I don't want to.
I'm living in my own world,
I'm dreaming my own dreams.
I'm creating my own reality
of worries, fears and sorrows.
I would like to be happy,
I would like to live a life,
I would like to be real!
But I can't!
I'm living in walls of glass
cracking under the pressure;
I'm living in golden walls
covered by the pictures
of the ones I like and love.
I'm existing in there
only waiting for the final smash
to break the chains!