the pain-ter of the an-guish dra-wing the pic-ture of my soul my nar-row path lead me to black ga-tes+of fear that o-pen up i-ron wills in-kling wi-thin be-fore the brush tints it red a-gain cros-sing blades sharp ship routes in the o-cean spoo-ky dust and his grey eyes mi-rror of mine La-dies and gen-tle-men wel-come to o-ur un-be-lie-va-ble dream-land, remember Through the fla-mes of the run-ning ni-ght, even the wise stops to see, omen of a dying morning... I hear the mon-ster screa-ming its migh-ty bat-tle cry two de-sti-nies are blee-ding but his one stops to-night from the no-where where he came from now thun-ders start to roar his blood drips from my ar-mor it is my chance to run run [parlato a se stesso] Run a-way and tum-ble and for-get who you are Drop the steel and spill to earth the beer you had to-night the drunk men os-tra-ci-sm my path has yet to find uh Torn to shreds by the fury of the cold metal subjugated by my dying past I aim my shining tears to the howling forest trapdoor of my last wills