The growing fear of the Ringbearer.
In thoes haunting, hating words,
And in the dark the shadows search
For him, for it, for me.
The weight each day grows heavier,
The iron chain aroun my neck,
Strugleing thought and suffering breath,
As the eye searches for me.
The call shall reach them, quickly, now,
And my friend is no a friend,
And I fear the night as I fear the day,
And I fear he sees me now.
The illusion that I hold is hope,
The reality is death,
For this burden that I carry
Has forever changed me now.
The grass becomes the mountains,
And they become barren dirt,
But each footstep I surrender
Leads me to my death of my pain.
And It speaks to me, of the downfall of all,
And the weight grows heaver each day,
And the call of it shall reach them quickly now,
For my illusion is my hope.
And as the grass becomes the mountains,
And I am lost from ,my home,
The shadows and the eye are seeking me,
Killing me alone.