As the dark times turn you suffer
Some thing will never change
Why plan for the best
When you expect the worst
All hope is out of range
And the sun won't give you no light
I guess you know the trouble's gonna come
When your heart host the night
I guess you know the race has run
When demon strikes at every turn
A smell of death is on your mind
Oh oh, you gotta burn!
Your inner flame couldn't burn dry grass
But is gonna scorch your mind
And when there's no warm lights on your path
The crows ain't far behind
And the sun won't give you no light
I guess you know the trouble's gonna come
When your heart host the night
I guess you know the race has run
When demon strikes at every turn
A smell of death is on your mind
And the crows ain't far behind
Writer(s): Espen Andersen, Sondre Berge Engedal, Kenneth Lonning, Eirik Ovregard
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