Teksty: Seventh Angel. The Torment. I Of The Needle.

Huddled in a corner, unseen by a world so vast
There lies a trampled figure, with eyes of smokey glass.
Searching for a future, distorted by the past,
Shattered in an instant by a shot too good to last.

Pushing, pulling, pressure's crushing,
Running harder to get away
Time nears reaping, death's door's greeting
Slipping further to dismay.

Delirium rules an innocent life, a diet of tears and dope
The strangling grip of a punctured vein, a life of faded hope
Looking to the needle now, looking to the rope
The light flickers weakening, unable now to cope.

Pushing, pulling, pressure's crushing,
Running harder to get away
Time nears reaping, death's door's greeting
Slipping further to dismay.

Oh Lord, I am a burnt up offering
High on desolation
My God too long have I been
Shadowed by my fears.
Your love is way beyond all
Human comprehension.
I pray, that you'll kill the pain
And wipe away the tears.