The gloom is dwelling down the hall
Can you see the crimson on the wall?
Screaming fa├žades, open wide
With nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide.
I lash this chain down your scarred back,
To take away such pride you lack,
And as the veil of the moon grows dim,
The door shall knock, but don't come in.
Gaze deep into my eyes, think me insane,
Your foolish accusations, inquiries, are inane.
Futile resistance are taken to heed,
A fruitless wanting for a life not need;
Living without need, devoid of want,
You blather to speak, only to taunt.
No articulation shall speed passed your lip,
As I take the knife from my hip;
Chuck you against the solid steel wall,
When the gloom behind me shifts, you start to call;
But caught in speech you start to fall,
Wither, feeble folly, one and all!

There is a shadow on the wall,
Writhing monsters down the hall.
You try to run, you try to crawl,
Only your life's duration is now cut small.
To me it's music when you scream and shout,
And to feel your form, to snap, and then give out.
To be an angel destined to fall,
That is what it's like
To be a shadow on the wall.

A child's lull in the void,
To your mercy I devoid.
Such lack of forgiveness you feel you deserve,
And as you fall upon the floor...
Why fight if life's a chore?
The beasts commence their ascend,
Anticipating for you to greet your end;
Just accept, there's no need to fight,
I shall free you from reality's plight,
And allow things to end upon this night,
For I shall take away your blinding sight...

There is a shadow upon this wall,
Writhing monsters silent scream down the hall.
You try to run but only to crawl,
Only to realize your life's duration is now cut small.
To me it's music when you scream and shout,
And to feel your form, to snap, and then give out.
As you start to die, I say with a sigh,
"To be an angel destined to fall,
That is what it's like
To be a shadow on the wall."

Stare into the third and madcap eye,
For that is where the truth speaks a lie
Of crimson bodies casted ahead,
A hand outstretched upon their bed;
Eyes wide open, their mouths agape,
To their fate, they could not escape.
Being careless is to be alone,
These pitiful souls never returned home.
Lay yourself under your deep brown ground,
The walls caved in until there is not a sound;
As the veils falls over your now feeble form,
And you are casted away from life's norm;
You shall cross beyond the golden gate.
But if that does not leave to your own sate,
Only you will be found until of late,
For that is what is written upon your scarlet fate.

There is a shadow upon the casket wall,
Writhing monsters down the wooden hall.
Under your grave, you cannot run and crawl,
Only to know your breath's cut small.
It is music to hear the silence now,
For you cannot ask me how
I am an angel destined to fall.

O, that is what it's like
To be a shadow on the wall.