The smell of the newsprint
The face of death
You rattle down the stairwell
All cover in sweat
And he has your face now
I don't have to guess
He lives in your distance
Right in front of your face
Holy mother of terror
Bless my soul to keep
Help me find the light switch
So I can lay me down to sleep
I have your face now
And I have no pity
I'm so far away
There's no help left for me
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