Tonight I suffer with worry and stress
Am I so afraid and so Faithless?
Tonight I drift off to peaceful slumber
Until the Shadow wakes me with howls like thunder

Ninety days and ninety nights I count myself awake
My strength is an illusion for that I am fake
If I thought Casselberry was the worst kind of trial
And nights in the desert screaming my denial

What fresh Hell is this I say
Knowing full well the sufferings of another may
Make mine pale by comparison by far
Craving the racing engine of my black car

To run away so fast, as fast as I can
Searching for wisdom from that one wise man
To be forgotten and left all alone
Searching for the comfort of knowing I’m home