No matter how you travel -- be it far, be it wide, be it firmly on ground or soaring through sky, you'll never escape its discerning eyes, the pain, the misery, the veiled lies.
The past is quick and ever weeping, waiting, watching, stealthily creeping. Ever faster, making haste, no matter how you've kept your pace. The fear so clear upon your face, with sweat on brow your heart does race, while thoughts so mired in your disgrace dance through your mind while leaving trace of things you've done, of things you've said, of those you've left now laying dead. Of how you quake, of hearts you break, the nightmare from which you'll never wake. And yet you run, try to escape, to no avail for it's too late. Cuz there's no rest for men like us, we'll turn to ash and fade to dust, but until that moment, until we faint, until we meet our haunting fate, we'll strive for glory, we'll burn, flame on! Until we fizzle... until we're gone.