The hollow sky is red
The race is on
Faces are all dead
The race is on
It's just a matter of time!
Bedrooms are tombs
Cradles are coffins
Tears I cannot shed
A matter of time
A matter of slugs
'Til the rats are fed
Who examines the doctors?
I'm the hollowman
It's just a matter of bullets
In hollow brain
As I wander slowly
Thru bullet rains
My hollow eyes
Are staring down the hole
It's rotten and sour
But it's inside of me
I've got faith in the end
But you just can't see