No windows

No windows, no flights, no doors - Only a black, dead night In it, tired animals sleep, forgetting about the future, They have gone away from everywhere They don't want to think about the past, There are so many deaths in that past, There is the coolness of prison cells, And the melodies of rusty chains They don't want to know where their roots are, Their hope is far away from trouble, Their freedom is always running away from the chase, As they run, covering their tracks The animals look up at the sad sky, Trying to see the edge of the sky, And for dinner they have a slice of stale bread, And a cup of tea covered in mud. Tell me what your grief is about, I will take your pain as my own, It's a pity that everyone else has gone to their holes, Leaving us on the edge. Sing me a song about the cross and the dome, About hope and faith in all faiths, And love is a cage, I'm cornered again, Like a helpless wounded beast. No window, no flight, no door...