The demons swim where no one sees,

But no one hear their ill-lighted screams,

Instructions so inlawful and oblique,

Heard by no one except from me.

I see the word guilt but what does it mean?

Seems like a fictional desire that I won't feel,

No conscience to stop me from doing wrong,

A knife in my hand as they sing their twisted song.

Is it too late to say sorry now that the deed is done?

Has the deadline died- been buried- and gone?

Someone tell me; was the deadline long?

For my deadline is in a few hours- for I have done wrong.

I'll never get my knife back she took it to her grave,

I still smell her crimson blood which ran from my blade,

I guess I wasn't fast enough but next time i'll get away,

Her fate was twisted and mine shall be the same.

The clock just ticks aways- these are the last breaths I shall take,

I'd like to think I was sorry but really I have no shame,

The event was fun and frankly was a game,

Here's the warden officer now my time has finally come,

Take me to my iron throne and turn the electric on.