| It’s approaching |
| Darkness encroaching |
| The greys — a gradient to black |
| The fading sun falls through the cracks |
| It’s the last time you’ll see the day |
| Crawl inside and slip away |
| Memories color a past left behind |
| These short days |
| I lose my concept of time |
| Memories color a past left behind |
| These short days |
| I lose my concept of time |
| The chill moves from your spine to your mind |
| And December comes again |
| The neurosis fills my head |
| Blackened thoughts I can’t escape |
| And I start to question fate |
| Why do I question who I am? |
| Why does my mind create demands? |
| I fight to stay upon the path |
| Make anguish something of the past |
| I question all my actions |
| And ponder the reactions |
| I will not let the voices |
| Take over all my choices |
| I will not let the voices |
| Take over all my choices |
| The chill moves from your spine to your mind |
| Day turns black |
| And December comes again |
| The neurosis fills my head |
| Blackened thoughts I can’t escape |
| And I start to question fate |