The Demons come,
when she's alone.
Late at night,
they sing their songs,
Of worry, doubt
and anxiety.
Haunting sounds
and melodies.
The Demons know,
when best to strike,
And then they do so,
with all their might.
They don't do things,
with light intention,
They want her begging,
for intervention.
The Demons know her
or think they do,
They never want to hear,
her point of view.
They know best,
they'll tell her so,
And fill her head,
with thoughts of woe.
The Demons are knocking,
can you hear?
You feel it don't you,
I feel your fear.
You have no option
but to let them in,
Just never, ever
let them win.