to the one who would save me,
evil is a room of old men.
cutting his flesh, stealing his past.
and if he just turn the lights on
the demons will flee.
that's what he believes.
that's what he fears.

he is not me.

to me, evil lives inside a demon
just underneath his shroud of flesh.
and i can't escape the taint of his hands
bruising my skin.
crushing my beliefs.
feeding on my fear.

this is not me.

to me, evil is the voice i still hear
hissing like Satan in my ear
and i can't escape the sulfur on his breath
poisoning my soul.
corroding my beliefs.
catalyzing my fear.

i am not me.

and even now that evil is undone,
banished back to the fires of hell,
i sit alone with every light blazing.
but the darkness still remains.
i am what i believe.
or am i what i fear?

myself.