The True Face Of Panic

Premonitions Of War

Compositor: Premonitions of War

What is this new madness? On it comes.
Panic, whose blood runs cold.
Fear not this raging madman, evil incarnate.
First on one side then the other.
I hate him worst of all.
As if I stand on some tall beacon, I see it draw near.
On it comes.
Abhorrence, whose blood boils in the vein.
You hate me worst of all.