I remember their murder day,
I remember them asking for mercy
While they felt their cold blood
And I haven't been albe to forget
They were persecuted, cornereds and murdered next they were quartered, became flesh covered by rats.

They suffered in their flesh the unloading of horror, blood and reality.
I am only memories of lived deaths with a mind paralysed by the bloody sunrise,
to remember my past is to weep tears of cadaverine;
I will never stop to listen to their last screams,
because I live into my memories and the silence because
I am another victim of this quarterer world.
I see the bales, piercing their flesh, I am only memories,
I am only an internal torture.
Happiness doesn't exist to me just my desperated shouts exist, fucking world, I can only remember death and horror.