How many things can be seen through the glass
Of an old wooden window
This wheelchair outlooks the life of others.

Observing them as they live have made my days.

Shreds of meat, meal for worms
I know you, and what you’ve done!

Even at night you can see many things
The old window, my friend
Silence, the city is asleep, lights off
A scream that breaks the darkness
Suffering, pain.

Observing them as they live have made my days.

Shreds of meat, meal for worms
I know you, and what you’ve done.