Endless tension , walking corpses

You see in their faces sad frustation 

Cops are hitting , cars are crashing

And piles of people are sucking smog



1. And I die slowly in this grave

My grave , in wich millions will die



The glasscases are showing fashions

While beggars beg for a piece of bread

Busses are filled with human masses

And a dog4s crushed by the wheels



2. And I cry surrounded by stress

and I think , How can I live in this mess?



Chorus:

And the hate is growing high,

And the city grows to the sky,

We're just some little scums,

Trapped in our own pretty tomb