Demons Of Time Testo

Pursued by nothing zhan your fear
But their steps resounding in your tortued ears
Tormenting your soul, no place to hide
No sword to fight: thou shall die

You struggle when you hear them coming
And every step you run, thousand pursue your poor soul
Demoniac laughter when they tear off little parts
You're bleeding when times and feelings come off and die
Every tick of the hand a part of you
When you crowl to the tombstone of thine
You know
You die
In pieces
Time to resign
But you are already dead.