Siberian (A Benefit for Amnesty International)

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

Submitted by Celtic Frost — Nov 10, 2025