The True Face of Panic
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Lyrics
What is this new madness? On it comes. Panic, whose blood runs cold. Fear not this raging madman, evil incarnate. First on one side then the other. I hate him worst of all. As if I stand on some tall beacon, I see it draw near. On it comes. Abhorrence, whose blood boils in the vein. You hate me worst of all.
Audio Features
Song Details
- Duration
- 01:35
- Key
- 1
- Tempo
- 159 BPM