It is cold and meaningless within these walls
The house, once filled with love and confidence
Has lost its warmth, seems more or less vacated.
The loneliness feels like a heavy coat
The pain is veiled beneath a mask of strength
I am tired of the stage-play I’m performing
My coping well is an inches-thick façade
It is like a pain that lingers night and day
I long for children who are far away
Will I escape this pencil-pushing kingdom?
Which locks me in this penitentiary?
Did I get life imprisonment without a pardon?
The price for safety was entirely to dear.
Oh hell, what I really want to say
is, that I want to carry on with living
I hate the filling in of forms which seem
endless rows of copies and of repetitions
If the play must go on, let me play on
Give me another script, not this black comedy
Please take from me this feeling of being tied
to departments and departments asking the same questions
That is what makes me feel like a prisoner in chains.