A spiderweb pulling back each movement that I make
Poor spider, I will burn your home in order to escape
And when the darkness grows onto my heavily loaded back,
I'll shake it off my shoulders and I'll follow my own track.

Run, run, run from the drag and from the treason,
far enough till I reach a warmer season
Run, run, run, in the long run I'll recover
Pull myself out of this, demand no other.

Once and for all I find my way through forests at night,
might 7 years be all I have, for 7 years I'd fight
When everything behind me has finally disappeared,
my body shall be put to rest, my spirit shall be freed.

A dark year before dawn, when no one is at hand.
Before the time is gone, run for your life again.