Slip your hands through the mossy rocks

Science is corrupting all scars and locks

Bitter wounds try to scratch

Double edge sword wounds all catch

Running out of breath

The time comes and you prepare, so

At the highest rate

You yell:

"I am free!

No more chains chaining.

No more daggers pressing.

No more mazes to be breaking.

No more cries of thunder burning.

And no more you and your lying."