The Clock Strikes 12

The clock strikes 12,
and your fate is revealed,
as the final stroke sounds,
you find you're in a field.

nothing in sight,
nothing to be shown for,
empty and alone,
you drop to the floor.

the clock strikes 12,
it marks your end.
as the final stroke sounds,
from hell they will send.

All that's left is your thoughts,
and the voices in your head.
It doesn't matter who you loved,
doesn't matter what you said.

The clock strikes 12,
and slowly you turn.
as the final stroke sounds,
the fire starts to burn.

your screams are lost,
in the swift breeze.
the heat spreads through your body,
like a contagious disease.

the clock strikes 12,
the shadows surround you.
as the final stroke sounds,
you are closed in, nothing to do.

you scratch your precious skin,
trying to wake from this nightmare.
leaving cuts, exposing flesh,
you've had enough with this scare.

the clock strikes 12
and they start to close in.
as the final stroke sounds,
you start to confess your sins.

your end is near,
and you cant stop it.
about to descend into hell,
you've had enough of this shit.

the clock strikes 12,
it's going way too fast.
as the final stroke sounds,
you regret your whole past.

you just want to take back,
all the things you'd said.
but now it's too late,
now you are dead.