Chained to a black post
In the street of Rjukan
Surrounded by mountain
And industrial fog
Lifting stones in anger
Rotten smell of ironskin
Grey sky mourning
Last glint of light
Local dogs are watching
His last silent fight
Condemned by the court of old
Condemned by parochial laws
Scratching to the bone
Feeding the mind with horror
Nocturnal shadows
Feast upon wooden walls
A cold wind
Licking at his rotting torso