How do you get out of here?

From this place

Creaking under my feet

Naked, worn and ruined,

trying to find a way?

How do you get out of here?

Maybe I don’t want to,

maybe I’m afraid,

because I don’t want to forget.

Maybe it’s addiction,

perhaps it is loss of consciousness.

Walking on this dotted line,

longing for the pain to end,

with the condition not to forget,

not to stop loving,

don’t stop wanting to fight,

but feel less

pain.

How do you get out of here?

I’ve been wondering for a while …

Maybe I’m a lover of my prison

Or that’s all I have left.

.

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