Torchure In His Grip
Trapped and concealed in this dark room
Hungry and cold I vegetate
Fettered and gagged
Expecting the worst
Not the slightest chance to escape...
Out of here!
Will I die? In his grip
Helpless I wait for what's to come
At the edge of my common sense
Will I survive or be dead soon?
Oh God! My fate lies in his hands...
As I look into his eyes I see nothing else
Than hate and uncontrolled despite
Against the human race?
What is he able to do?
Will my worst nightmares come true?
I'm sure his hands have many times
Committed homicide
He's sick, his mind's a labyrinth
Which horrors may it hide?
What is he craving for?
Am I the prey for a feast of gore?
Is this the end? Is there no way out?
I'm lost in this place, there is no doubt
In his grip
I hear his steps
He's approaching, my end is drawing nearer
No chance to hide
No imploring and no woeful cries
He gently starts to work
As the blood flows
My senses slowly fade away
Finally this is the end
After all I'm now about to
...die...