Quick stranger come quick, you may be their pick.
There isn't much time, I shall explain in this rhyme.
The evil is near, and we must find our gear.
Over here lost soul, this journey takes its toll.
We'll travel the mind, and leave nothing behind.
We're in search of the demon, that has possed our mind.

Stranger look there, for at the soul they tear.
Deep down inside us, they ravage with such lust.
They must not devour, they must face our power.
Our chances are slim, and our future looks grim.
Yet fight with pride, and never look back.
We're in search of the demon, its our time to attack.

(more soon, this ones gonna be a long one.)