A knife is held up to my tender throat
I scream and cry despite the words "Don't fight"
A drop of blood dribbles down my coat
I want to escape in the dark of night

I hear their voices closing in on me
Their skin is pale against their stealthy black
The blackness of their coats is what I see
Their machine guns are strapped against their backs

My tears are warm against my frozen skin
Death is closing in, yet still seems so far
I loathe the dark that's beckoning me in
Yet still love the ebony and tar

Blackness of death tries to get me to come
And slowly but surely I succumb
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