Each day he finds his way to the graveyard Without flowers, without prayers For hours he sits there on the floor By the people lying there He doesn't know any name Written in the cold stones He spells each of them tenderly Looks forward to be one of them
He's a prisoner in his own world Doesn't take the challenge to break out Poor prisoner in your own world Is there nothing you can smile about? Poor prisoner in your own world
Each day he leads his car to his office Without thinking, without dreaming He nods to everyone Without even looking at them He doesn't know any face Belonging to those name-plates Ignores each of them naturally Refusing to be one of them
He's a prisoner in his own world Doesn't take the challenge to break out Poor prisoner in your own world Is there nothing you can smile about? Poor prisoner in your own world