Here in this house of endless bloodshed
There is no air
We never sleep
They smell our skin a mile away
Shaken
I am the ashes in the ossuary
Careworn and lame
This threadbare brain
Sends only signals of decay
If I can fall to sleep
Don't dare disturb my rest
Because it's been so long since it was safe -
So I wait here, feeding on fear
With knuckles white and dripping red
Shaken
I face defeat at my own hand today
Before the end comes from outside
I draw it from within
The fog of war: