My days I spend in loneliness mind-numbing

Into this unlife forced by bitter fate

Each day´s the same as all the ones before it

No fear, no faith nor love or even hate

Prime solace found in grapes so sweet, fermented

Kind Bacchus grants this weary soul relief

A single cup of joy within this dreadful ennui

Distracts me from the never ending grief

But that faint spark of passion is but fleeting

And soon do I return to so-called life

To dream of just a single thing to bring me hope anew

Of even but a moment, a strangers´ friendly greeting;

A day without this misery and strife

But all things good are far between and few.