When the clock strikes twelve and it's all been done Heavy lies the weight on the shoulders of the chosen one. [x3]
One more night on the run Then I'll carry my cross for hours, days, weeks, months. And I'll die like a martyr. I walk. I walk. I walk. Alone.
I have born witness. I know the way. But I will be buried under this weight. When the bottle runs dry and the devil escapes I will be buried under this weight.