Cry of a hero

"What can I do if I`m only a dreamer?
What can I tell if I really don`t know
When did I make me believe in
The life as a wangled damn show,
Where certain evils as killing, betrayal,
Jealousy, greed, warfare and crime
Are bein made up to press down a hero,
Who contends for the freedom and fair, good time.
And noone will help him, noone will fight!
No man won`t do that, no man will die,
Except those young hero, whose name will be leaved,
Whose life was a treasure stolen by thief -
A screwy old showman scriptin` the game
For another new heroes you all may stay
And battle for love, conduct as a knight,
But bein` abondoned and thrown aside...
So we all are slaves just taken to stage,
Where actors are diein` within shoman`s rage,
Where life is a plot, goddamn it is!
I know I`m a psycho writing all this..
Here is a chair, and here is a rope
Clutchin` my neck, collapsin` my soul.
I`m standin` above the pit of the doom
And nothin` but death will greet me so soon.
But I`m still alive and writin` this lines
To make you belive in this hero`s cry,
That path of the one is just foolish myth,
Which makes you become hopeless and stiff,
Betrayed and forgotten, abased and condemned
Bein` chained by a destiny makin` you damp.
And this is a truth! The hero`s dark life!
And nothin` else matters but a step to divide
Between Devil and God, what will I choose? ..."
And then a hero has fallen left bein` abused
With horrific, indecorous, miserable life
Of the one to follow the destiny`s might
Controllin` the slaves and makin` them die
In the name of absurd and ridiculous lie,
That men have got only one path to live,
One path to die and no choices to achieve..
The rope was swingin` from left to the right
Cradling the hero`s dead body that night.