They say I'm running out of hours
But these days are hard to see
With the grim reaper smirking
And staring back at me
I'm winking in the half-light
Dawn arose too soon
And though the sun begins to glow
My heart stays with the moon
And my tortured eyes are tired, brittle from the cold
Broken from the hope that my heart still tries to hold
When I could run I ran a lifetime but night kept catching me
Of late I sleep in nightmares waiting for the world to set me free
I can hear them say I'm running out of hours
They think that I've forgotten how it felt to feel free
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They guide me through their labyrinth
A tangle of riddles and gloats
Their easy smiles don't waver
As their words wrap around my throat
Saying we spend too freely on our exploits
We live too lively in our skin
We don't respect what we're given
We dwell in darkened sin
Their robes are billowing madly
Their eyes darkening each day
Holding me on my leash
Lest I find a way to end my stay
The maze is stony cold
It's a frightful distance to trek
The way is hard to tread
With the noose about my neck
One false step and I'll falter, and he'll lose his faith in me
And then I'll be abandoned, left to rot in insanity
And they say we're running out of hours
But the day is newly begun
It's night time that's encroaching
And in shadows the demons have their fun
I hear drums on the horizon
I hear shouts and screams and calls
My heart is quickened
As I hope their wrath could break these walls
And they say we're running out of hours
But time has no hold on me
Though the dark man is grinning he has no place in wait for me
Follow him down
Follow him down
We rotted souls are shaken
But the wards about these hollowed halls
Frightened by night's hallow calls
Are now for sure awakened
I'm falling and I'm flying
And flying is to be free
Trapped in a cyclone's funnel
This static momentum is all I see
Is it something about the medieval decor that has me rattled?
This became so easily my dungeon floor
Cold and stony, hard and unflinching as I beat its sorry soul
With the first breath I steal
I descend with my shadow into the night's midnight stream
Hearing now closer the voices of which I dream
They say I'm running out of hours, but to fly is to be free
The end for them might just be the beginning of becoming me
After all what else would be left
Just an end to my honoured profession of pursuing a simply peaceful and plentiful death
