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The Mark Dale Project

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His hands a mixture of blood and sweat
The feeling he will never forget
A knife plunged through the old man's head
Left him close to or maybe dead

The voices still plague him night and day
So he must continue the masquerade
A mind left twisted by a hidden torment
They'll say he's insane but he knows different

The old cottage in the hills where he goes alone
Has seen the suffering mere bricks and stone
Only the drink can numb the pain
Until it's time to kill again

At work he only plays the game
When at night he will kill and maim
A lonely victim he will say
The should never see the light if day

The voices still plague him night and day
So he must continue his masquerade
A mind left twisted by a hidden torment
They'll say he's insane
But he knows different

The morning has come and it's time to go to the station
How could he face another day
Walking through the door he here's a voice call out
It said good morning to you Inspector Moore, good morning to you Inspector Moore

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