Siberian - Misery Index

march out, submissive, tundra-locked labor slaves

eight years inside here, counting down our endless days

we’re rationed, worked and flogged 'til bitter dusk dissolves

and beckons back to here, so far from mother’s arms

each day, a penance, each night, a sigh

through every night I ponder, what exists beyond these walls

this dreaded repetition, gnawed flesh, a shield gone numb

I’ll tread this place no longer, tomorrow I’ll be gone

into the unforgiving, a bleak and barren land

this rock, and birch-bound cradle, saps the life from me

no gods, no laws, just open empty earth

at one with crystal-white, to die alone

Narodnaya, our time is nigh, open your door to the end

white clouds of frozen breath, these ghosts accompany

waiting for death, together longing for release

and from my resting place, I stare at Narodnaya

beneath the gray clouds brooding, the air escapes my lungs