How can I pour br All of my tragedy br Into my poetry? br br How can I hear a choir br Of my past br Into my heart? br br I am trapped into my tragedy, br As I am trapped in poetry... br But no one is there br To show me the way out! br br I am trapped into my past, br In the depths of my night, br Should I go to the crematory br And throw myself to the flames? br br I am the slave of poetry, br So I already am the slave br Of those flames, br For what is passion, br What is poetry br If not the greatest fire? br br My endless tragedy still br Draws tears on my face... br br My desperate poetry br Still screams from within me, br Still uses me as a demon br I would be possessed by... br br My past is always there, br Never giving up, br How can I erase my guilt? br br I am trapped into my past, br In the depths of my own night, br Should I walk on the thin ice br Of my sanity, br See if it breaks... br Then I’d be free... br Free in an asylum, br br But I already found freedom...