I know they wait behind the
door, waiting till my spark is
gone, till i am no more. They
hunger for what I have craving
it for they are knocking at my door.

When that time comes,
escorted to that place not
of the living world, the next
place I wish not to go. I can not
escape their  grip so cold it freezes
me to my spiritual core.

Tormented for what I have done,
in the days of the living, lives ruined
to me a game now I must pay in kind
for the sins that were done.

The things that have earned me  
a place of torment where my soul
will never find peace, torn to shreds
my soul in pieces burning for evermore.