As the light creeps in the hall
And the dust-mites wait to feed
The old black rat designs his palace
Nestled in amongst the filth
He gathers junk and useless things
Never straying from the deadline
With Winter's clutch prolonged
And death 'round the corner
The old black rat heals from the poison of disorder
I caught a rat and cornered it
Yeah he was hiding in shadows of my mind
And I felt the cold of Winter on his back
And only the sunlight shining down upon his head
