You are behind the iron door.
By the will of Tyrant
now you are the slave.
You bring the death to
amuse the crowd.
You dance on the rim of a grave.

Your Spirit is not broken
And you are still yourself.
The Fate's protecting your life
It is the impudence -
Being eye to eye with Death
To scream: "I am alive! Still alive!"

The Olden Times are turned back,
Your wounds remember
the cold of the knife.
You hear again the battle cry,
You have to kill to save your life.

You are like a Berserk
Like a killing machine.
You are in and of itself
With your fondest dream.
At the minutes of rest
You begin to pray
For your friends who were killed,
Who got rid of the slave's
mark with Death!

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