��In 1961At 10pm���The moon was three quarters fullOf cruising downThe road to hellA bright light in the skyWas pouncingBack and forthFor a mile northOf LincolnA light descendsIn front of them�Like a bug in the netThey snatch your soulsIt's like playingRussian rouletteThey put your lifeOn holdLike a bug in the netThey crush your hopesIt is a bigPick up a knifeTo controlYour thoughts��������������35 miles down the roadTwo hours of missing timeNo memoriesOf what ever goodJust a terrifying feelingThat something's wrongThe goldsberg doorBorn apart, scars appears on the broken bodiesNightmares that's horrifying, it starts to reveal itselfLike a bug in the net, it snags your soulsIt's like playing Russian roulette, it puts your life on holdLike a bug in the net, they crush your hopesIt takes the pick of a knife, to control your thoughtsLike a bug in the net, it slams your hopesLike a bug in the net, it slams your hopesThank you.You