Maybe this time I'll outwit my past
I'll throw away the numbers, the keys
Maybe I can carve out a living in the cold
At the outskirts of some city
I extinguish all my recent pasts
In northern grey, in drizzling rain
In salted slush and bitter hale
But the order as always merciless
So the hunter is now the hunted
I renounce my past to live again
I thought I have been given
It tries to cheat me out of my good aim
Take away what I never really got