He´s lost in a lane
shadows playing ´round his feet
like the fog, just there to blame
him for his not so evil deed.
His conscience pulls him back
strings of steel winded ´round his feet
hooks in the twists about to hack
to pull him down for his not so evil deed.
His heart´s where it could be loved
tonight it´s bare before his feet
chambers of blood, about to carve
inner bleeding of a not so evil deed.
Afraid of catching an use
His future lies before his feet
a question, he tried to refuse
Was it such an evil deed?
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