The lonely young child sits by his grave
Sitting alone in the middle of the night
To his own thoughts, he is his own slave

With his own name, it will engrave
He cannot yet see, there is no light
The lonely young child sits by his grave

The tears well up, as in, he gave
He looks around, trying to regain sight
To his own thoughts, he his his own slave

The world corrupted, made deprave
As he alone fights his fright
The lonely young child sits by his grave

Holding in his tears, he tries to be brave
Trying to pretend he still has might
To his own thoughts, he is his own slave

Even his own life, he cannot save
The urge to die, he tries to fight
The lonely young child sits by his grave
To his own thoughts, he is his own slave