did you cry out through your window of your four-wall stone cell? people seem weak or homely when you've talked to yourself for weeks. outside these withered bars, is a town without a name. the faces all blend together, they all dress and talk the same. to bless is with no "virtue", and to praise is not a right. I have a four-wall stone cell. you call it small for what you will, I'll call it home.
Lyrics submitted by a scar in the sky