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Sometimes I'm running out of time,
Lying to myself,
finding last line.

It's been fourty nights
It's been fourty days
It's been fourty sunsets
Before I've heard the first pray.

I need your lies to make it clear,
To close my eyes so full of fear,
to wash the darkness from the cheer,
cause the reaper is leering at me.

Taking soul to hell I fallow the road I made,
No place to rest, no life for trade.
The burden I've lade with burning flame,
Eating the days which hardly I gain.

the movement that watches just made,
Are simple and silent like grave.
They ending the time and fallow the age,
when you are dying Isn't it strange?

watchman is watching the time,
never he moves, never he dies.
standing there still, guarding the line,
which crossing the past from presents of time.

The cold never touches the watchman who sleeps,
Cause the time that he watches is caring his needs.
The watchman is stoned but power he keeps,
The one who wakes him never will sleep.

The eyes of the watchman are spreading the fear,
The one that once watched them is drawning in tears,
is loosing his mind and loosing sweet dreams
And fallow the road of nightmares he dreamed.