march out, submissive, tundra-locked labor slaves eight years inside here, counting down our endless days
we're rationed, worked and flogged 'til bitter dusk dissolves and backons back to here, so far from mother's arms
each day, a penance, each night, a sigh through every night I ponder, what exists beyond these walls
this dreaded repetition, gnawed flesh, a shield gone numb I'll tread this place no longer, tomorrow I'll be gone
into the unforgiving, a bleak and barren land this rock, and birch-bound cradle, saps the life from me no gods, no laws, just open empty earth at one with crystal-white, to die alone
Narodnaya, our time is nigh, open your door to the end
white clouds of frozen breath, these ghosts accompany waiting for death, together longing for release
and from my resting place, I stare at Narodnaya beneath the gray clouds brooding, the air escapes my lungs