I toil for self approval, 
And work for bitter praise. 
Digging down into the 
Of a slowly growing grave. 
My bloody hands lie broken, 
And my shovel scrapes on 
Until the hole that I´ve been feeding, 
Is the only thing I own. 
I stand, alone and empty, 
And lose all hope within, 
I´ll keep digging to the bottom, 
Until they throw the dirt back in.