Through the jungle searching, always searching Never finding the golden ring Looking for the ever elusive opponent of life Finding the search empty of all those that plays deaths fife.
Our enemy is a crafty devil Neither good nor evil and always just a beyond the horizon’s level To find our foe would certainly bring death For one of us would draw his last breath.
Look, listen, feel, and smell the same things as he for that is his defenses How is the search lasting so long going through all the pretenses? To find him would end the endless search To worship the hunt as if in a church
Does he have the same feeling of doom? Could he actually be feeling the same gloom? Surely he isn’t a human with the same goal The more we search the more we can’t find his soul.
Gloom and doom follow as we crawl over this infested hell The more we search the more we enter our own shell No creature of God’s design Could be so strongly playing upon my mind.
Could this be a creature of my minds making? This search my sanity is taking. As I lie here in my bed Dripping wet from the sweat of death and dread.
Yes, another dream of that time long ago No one else can even know How could I tell them of the sickness inside? How could any human keep his sanity, though I’ve tried and tried?
Another day of hell lived over and over each night Surely by now we should have the right To forget the death and stench of fear That only builds year by year.
This is the dreams and nightmares The sweats and screams and mental tear The mental image that makes you lose your very sanity The only saving grace is the morning and its selfish vanity.