Progression of Time.

Run, before the darkness comes.

Away from where the beast roams.

Steel yourself, for no matter how far you run.

You can't truly outrun the darkness, you'll even pass it to your son

But run you must lest succumbing to the beast you should be won.

So prepare yourself for a great journey. A terrible endeavour.

Stare at your meagre possessions. Be glad they are few. Lest you it devour.

Run your hands along all the things you once loved one last time.

And smile at memories lost, the taste slowly souring in your mouth like lime.

Once again taken by urgency you continue. 

you'll never let it take you.

I fight its what i do, it's where you were found.

And from all that pain you were crowned.

Drunk on power and blind to reason.

Moods passing like the progression of seasons.

And from that darkness the beast was born.

So you and all around a pact have sworn.

To keep the beast at bay now and forever.

So travel i must, perhaps this is my final endeavour.