Empty foot pressed halls
Descendants stain the walls
Carpets swirled in masses
Worn out, worn out glasses
And there are hours, hours
Stairs are the towers, towers
Our future is written, written
Jack is now hidden
Running through the maze
Father's in a daze
Don't disturb his working
For mother may be lurking
And there are hours, hours
Stairs are the towers, towers
Our future is written, written
Jack is not hidden
We must run
We cannot be one
Between hell and heaven
Two thirty-seven
Revenge
Dead-end
Redrum
Here I come