Basnicky.sk

I'm looking at these four walls
With no windows with no door
These four walls are made of brick
Not of wood and not of stick.

Although i try to get out
No one hears me scream or shout
One day these walls will have to fall
Then i'll see one and all.

But untill then i'm stuck in here
With all my hate and all my fear
This room is dark and it's cold
Will i be here till i grow old

It feels like i will never be free
But thats the way it's got to be.