The Wicked - Deviant Syndrome

Like a pouring of the rain,

Drowns my life

Like this white walls

I am trapped.

I still can realize

But why do they cease me to think?

I have tried to write

But they cut my fingers off.

I still can think

I see the symbols of world creation

I have tried to speak

But why do they cut off my tongue?

Forever despair

Forever solitude

My guide — my pain

Why still I breathe?

White walls, on your eyes I’ve left my nails

Steel bars on window, how many teeth have I left for you?

Gray floor, my prison gate, I hate you

But you could not get my conscience away!

I saw the numbers you consisted of

I’d have told you to free me but my tongue…

I still feel weaker

I could open my mind, but society turned away

I fear everyone

'Cause I see what they are consisted of.

Now there’s no way out

Someday they’ll kill my conscience

But if I try to run

They may cut my legs off…