Demonstration is radical, Isolation is medical, Isn’t it ironic that my soldiers are gone? Isn’t it demonic that I’m fighting alone?
The walls are burning, My waltz – it’s turning around in my had, The doctor comes up to my bed, And I know – he’s lying to me, he will try to see me again, When only this clinical record will come to an end?
Disillusion is clinical, The conclusion is typical, Simply I get critical, But I didn’t start the war, No it’s not political, but about to explore
Revolution is obvious, Contribution’s anonymous, Will I ever receive a chance to get out or stay, Will I ever reminisce this perpetual day?