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I got a room with a view
but nothing's here to do
and nothing is new
round and round I go
but always in a circle
from the window to the door
and back
staring at the floor
because the door to the world
is locked
and my view
is only the blue
of the same piece of sky
and the same bars
I have been staring at
all those hours, that became days
and weeks
and years
In the beginning there were tears
for the freedom I had lost
But what would I do, if I could fly
fly through the bars, into the blue?
I don't know, and Hell I don't care
'cause in this life, I won't go anywhere
than to my door, and back to my bars
and all the other fantasies
are just wishful dreams
of a freedom I will not gain
Except for the freedom to walk again
from my door to my window, makes me insane
I got this room with a view
and nothing here to do
than to walk, and wait
and watch the clouds go by
like the years, till I die
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