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.