II. TORMENTS

Far away, but much too close for comfort
Carnival's calliope is playing
Halloway sits in the darkened library
Thinking dark thoughts
Son at home he doesn't really know
Fifty-four years seems so very old
Throws the carnival's ad in the fire
Flames grow higher

Long after midnight, children awake
Journeys await them, chances to take
Run through the streets to the carnival grounds
Hoping to ride the merry-go-round

Three AM is midnight for the soul
Never is a man so close to death
The house of temptation is at hand
Souls are damned

What's the purpose of a life of virtue?
What you don't know certainly can hurt you
Every step he made he second-guessed
Life of regret

Ride's out of order, no one's around
Hardly a whisper, hardly a sound
Thinking that they're alone, but they're not
Gloved hands encircle, now they are caught