The smell of the newsprint
The face of death
You rattle down the stairwell
All cover in sweat

And he has your face now
I don't have to guess
He lives in your distance
Right in front of your face

Holy mother of terror
Bless my soul to keep
Help me find the light switch
So I can lay me down to sleep

I have your face now
And I have no pity
I'm so far away
There's no help left for me