No safe place to be found, no refuge for mind, or soul
Wandering around, finding a way, of filling up the hole

The past becomes lost, heading into the fade, each and every time
Determining the cost, hand upon the blade, not guilty of the crime

Blood upon my fingers and face, they don't know, it is my own
Eternally lost without a trace, a million miles from home

Staging my demise, lost in the mists, a lack of hills to climb
Eyes on the prize, as the knife twists, in spirit and in rhyme