Black Dogs - The Five Hundred

In this rotting century of hate

Your troubled mind

My troubled mind

Our troubled minds

This world is full of suffering

The misery is taking me under

Now it’s spreading

And swallows everything

Standing here alone on the edge

Descending into the darkness

Standing here alone on the edge

Descending into the darkness

The voices are deceiving

This isn’t me I’m sinking

In a rotting century of hate

Estrangement from reality

Fading away into nothing

I didn’t want to feel

Or remember

Standing here alone on the edge

Descending into the darkness

Standing here alone on the edge

Descending into the darkness

Demons are calling me

They dig in their nails

And pull me away

Demons are calling me

All I see is the end

Just a way to escape

I don’t eat

I won’t sleep for days

I didn’t want to feel

I didn’t want to dream

In this rotting century

I didn’t want to remember anything, anymore

I didn’t want to be a part of it

This rotting century of hate

Demons and black dogs

A torture without mercy

The coldest darkest place

Demons and black dogs

A torture without mercy

The coldest, darkest, place