Drifting in sleepless nightmares Haunted by poisoned dreams Washing your hands in the water But the hands will never be clean
Now you pay the price Your dreams drenched in blood Now you realize You have gone too far
Claws of madness Holding your brain as they take you away to the other Side of sorrow Where you pay what you owe
Claws of madness Never ending pain drives you insane you want to Leave this world now Death is kind you will find
Smile in the face of evil Watching your life go by Washing your hands in the water God knows how you try
Whispers in your mind Voices from far away Can you hear them calling Names from far away
[Narrator:] After the suicide of his wife and companion in treason Macbeth must understand that Macduff has finally succeeded and put together an army large in numbers and determined to overthrow the tyrant – to purify the Scottish crown from the blood that was shed for it... his men flee from him... leaving him alone with his anger... his doubts and his sorrow...
[Macbeth:] Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time, and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle. Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.