[Verse 1] He storms the doorway like a rising plague. The light recoils and folds into itself. Your breath turns brittle in the poisoned air. His shadow drags a hunger through the room. [Instrumental Break] [Verse 2] His grip is carved from storms that never die. A force that hunts the weakness in your stance. The walls lean inward, waiting for collapse. Your heartbeat flickers like a dying spark. [Instrumental Break] [Verse 3] He speaks in tones that hollow out the dark. Each word arrives like something dragged from graves. You feel the dread ignite beneath your ribs. The path behind you seals in choking dust. [Instrumental Break] [Verse 4] He closes in with death behind his stride. No mercy stirs within the steel he holds. Your pulse becomes a hunted, frantic spark. The iron handed always claims his due. [Outro]
