Lastest hour is drawing nearer
A fancy of existence
Which haunts unceasingly
It doesn’t hold on stretch
Horrible death waiting for him
In seizable nearness
All his life …
What is it worth?
What does he fail from?
What’s him move on
He suffers
Like a damned soul try to hold
For latest bits of pleasure
The hour strikes soon
Dreamy picture of escaping
Still balzing before him
Survival instinct keeps alive
An conquerably dominates …
Fear, fear, fear
Is the enemy who’s coming near soon to you
Set aside the fear
There’s really nothing, nothing to do for you
Music by: Bóna T., Vavreczky B.
Lyrics by: Bóna A.