Everyone has a demon,

That just won't go away,

Through struggling and hoping,

Our heart just can't go astray.

And when the darkest night falls upon our name,

We lift our head from silent prayer,

But the stars don't shine as brightly,

For our vision is impaired.

Who are we?

What have we become?

And within this wretched world,

Where the weak begin to succumb.

The demons laugh,

The demons play,

They prick at our nerves,

They cut through our veins.

Loss of hope and of the brain,

All too familiar,

All too strange,

All too similar to the perpetual game.

The demons are,

And we are the same,

Doesn't that make us,

Of the same name?