Out

Scraping with our keys,
Herding all our screams,
We'll get out,
We'll get out.

Scratching paint off the grey-white wall,
Dripping blood on the cold stone floor,
I swear, I swear we'll get out.

Digging tunnels under the fence,
Smashing windows glass cuts, hence;
Our shouts and screams of pain,
And blood on the gravel, once grassy floor,
Knocking down, with force, our door.

Lowly Lily singing sweet,
Little hands cover her frozen feet,
Singing like a lark, dark hair swaying,
Quietly talking, hoping, praying,

Let us out,
Let us out,
Halls of Satan call us,
Let us roam,
Let us go,
We'll kill you first I swear.