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I still remember an ancient story which my granpa use to tell

all about our ancestors, the old men from the past

he knew the existence of a place, surely left and doomed

Its the land of desolation, lost on the other side

In the land of desolation reigns the emptiness

vast expanses without life, it’s the deadly crust

there are buildings, bones and scrap all spread around

Ghostly voices filled with gloom whisper from the soil

“Hey, being free is all we want to be”

The immobile clouds of the impassive skies quietly watch the zone

many dead dreams lay down there, a wasteland in pale blue

everything that men could do finished suddenly

Ghostly voices filled with gloom whisper from the soil

“Hey, being free is all we want to be”