He took a deep breath, then he stepped outside –
The lonely guest at the scene of the crime.
A strangled voice in the back of the stage.
It kept on saying: It is never too late.
He was his right hand that was pulling the thread –
The freedom of choice burning bright in his head.
Every night as he stared at the moon,
The demon spoke: The time will come very soon.
We’re heading for tomorrow x3
He took a deep breath, then he looked at his knife –
The lonely guest at the scene of the crime.
Fallen king, bloody paint.
He spoke aloud: It is never too late.
We’re heading for tomorrow x3