The moon is high
The night is dark
The clouds are angry
And they hide the stars

The rain falls
Washing over my body
And I pray that this evil
Be cleansed from inside me

Now-the black hours
Of eventide
Have stirred the demons
That live inside

They drove away
What good I have left
And nourish the wrath
Of addiction and death

The persuasion of
Their maleficent ways
Brought on the phantasm
That led me astray

Now I am forgotten
In this wasted land
And the dance of death
... shall soon begin.

written by John LaRue
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