Tancer: "I will get lost... man on the run surrenders
Giving up the fight once more those who are disunited can
Not scratch the itchy spot, the psyche sore, help me out
Mt psyche really aches notion leading me astray will you
Help me letting out the truth... I'm about to lose
Watching my face worn out with guilt I couldn't make out
Myself no more I've let the itchy spot grow large being
Entangled with what I've done before I broke up my life,
And theirs... I will get lost...