When the clock strikes twelve and it's all been done
Heavy lies the weight on the shoulders of the chosen one. [x3]

One more night on the run
Then I'll carry my cross for hours, days, weeks, months.
And I'll die like a martyr.
I walk. I walk. I walk. Alone.

I have born witness.
I know the way.
But I will be buried under this weight.
When the bottle runs dry and the devil escapes
I will be buried under this weight.