As I Walk On To The Darkness
I Fear Not,
For I Know That The Hand Of God
Is Swifter Then The Eye Of Evil
As One Wrongfully Sentenced To Death
Walking Slowly But Surely
To His Painfully Quiet Death.
Waiting For His Last Chance,
A 23rd Hour Miracle,
A Divine Intervene,
That Will Pull Him Back
Over That Thin Line That Seprates
Between Life And Death.
I Wonder,
As A Monk Has Unsung Doubts
And He Wonders,
His Thoughts Wandering Down The Road
That Leads To Skepticism And Mistrust.
That Monk Not Understanding Why,
Why The All-Mighty,
Why Does He Who Makes The Flowers Grow
Let The People Die,
His People, His Children, His World
As The Angel Lets The Sands Of Time
Slip Through Its Fingers,
And Be Forver Lost In The Salty Ocean.
Not Moving,
Over Looking,
As The Monk And The Accused Walk,
Each Down His Own Mental Road,
Each Crossing Over.
As They Walk On To The Darkness
They Fear Not,
For They Know That The Eye Of Evil
Will Not Fail Where The Hand Of God Did