What are these dark and wicked things you always show me? Cutting deep inside the blind part of my overloaded mind. Spinning on to become a gentle yet a foul and elusive thought. I create, but I cannot decipher that what's in my head. I hide...
I see we have a fight once more, how they never pass me by. It's unbelievable how they always arrive on time. Tranquillize me with aggressive drugs, yet awake I see they never left my sleeping head. I'm running out of time, we're running out of time. I'm running out of time, we're running out of time.
I have lost my sense on a bitter day, Yet I lay my trust in your bleeding hands. Hoping that my faith will never die. We're running out of time.