Feeding graves for thirty years in Maine
IT’s shadow in mind is dragged in pain
Like a magnet pulled to place you know
And recalling memories
It’s right time for IT to eat
One strike’s not enaugh to stop the clown
To underground he’ll fall
In the circus lights his heart is beating one
Thirty year old promise kills at least
Fear is the main menu of the beast
As the circle ends he falls from grace
The mask of IT is torn down
And clown’s revealing his face
Torches of death are disappearing
Flames are fading down
Circus lights are gone now, as IT finally dies.
