In the bridewell, where the darkness dwell,
we humans are bind by the darbies, encircled by the chains.
The gravity pulls the self in the deep underground,
to the underworld to become nothing but a servant of hell.

We look here and there for an asylum,
but what we get is just a concrete cave.
Scrounging for gold in the forests; the greenwoods,
they are made of only buildings and sand.

What are we? just a man-at-arms,
lamenting over the scuple lands,...