Wandering the land.
Under your feet, the cold sand.
In the distant, there's a sadistic rant
A killers chant.
One look in his eyes and you know he's got ice in his vein.
His past is his pain.
A dark spirit haunts over him.
A horrid look in his face, so grim.
He grabs me, his face hidden in shadows.
It seems he waits to be put on the gallows.
There's a flash of like, and now I see.
This psycho is me.














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