A mad man is watching, stalking his prey.
It's your death he's thinking, planing the way.
He takes life fast, easy and quick.
"You won't be my last!" He shouts then spits.
Shows no mercy, soaring out for the kill.
Inside your brain, pounding, breaking your will.
On a burning star, thirsty for blood,
hungry for blood and to leave his scar.
He has no morals, feels no sorrows,
there's no way you will escape him.
He slices, penetrating, using his knife.
It's your soul he's reaping, taking your life.
He'll make sure he's safe asleep tonight.
In his coffin, nice and tight!
He has no morals, feels no sorrows,
there's no way you will escape him.
And in the end, stalker descends
into the fiery depths of hell.
Where he sits on the left of Lucifer
and listens to the demons yell, STALKER!
By Jim Morrison