• The tally marks upon the wall
    Speak the story of rise and fall
    Wins and losses recorded there
    Spoken to the still night air

    Every time he comes around
    Makes new marks without a sound
    One on the left, two on the right
    Win or loss, it's different every night

    If a win he does record
    He gets antsy and then bored
    If a loss should be noted
    His new tone would hurt the dead

    The left side loses out to right
    As he silently curses the night
    Losses rule out over wins
    And thus his hatred again begins

    Shadows creep as they remain
    Comforting his soul in vain
    Shadows soon begin to hide
    Revealing a soul that has died

    Nothing more for him to do
    Execpt stand and think of who
    The one who brought the newest line
    In the wall for all of time

    Nothing more is left to save
    Shell of a man who only gave
    Keeping his true self within
    Sacred thoughts of devlish sin