The wicked man is old
He fears without realising
A bold, shocking movement rises
The wicked man runs

The buzzing in his ears
He just needs to go
The deaf pounding of a drum
His lighter thought is a stone

He is on a chase
And his heart is the faster
Not knowing a path
Yet not stopping, all haste

The wicked man is mad
Does not rest, sore his feet
For a fire burns his neverhaves
The wicked man has the Death by his heels