Drifting in sleepless nightmares
Haunted by poisoned dreams
Washing your hands in the water
But the hands will never be clean 

Now you pay the price
Your dreams drenched in blood
Now you realize
You have gone too far 

Claws of madness
Holding your brain as they take you away
to the other
Side of sorrow
Where you pay what you owe 

Claws of madness
Never ending pain drives you insane
you want to
Leave this world now
Death is kind you will find 

Smile in the face of evil
Watching your life go by
Washing your hands in the water
God knows how you try 

Whispers in your mind
Voices from far away
Can you hear them calling
Names from far away 

[Narrator:]
After the suicide of his wife [bad word] in treason Macbeth must understand
that Macduff has finally succeeded and put together an army large in numbers
and determined to overthrow the tyrant – to purify the Scottish crown from the
blood that was shed for it... his men flee from him... leaving him alone with
his anger... his doubts and his sorrow... 

[Macbeth:]
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day
to the last syllable of recorded time, and all our yesterdays have lighted
fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle. Life's but a walking
shadow, a poor player that [bad word] and frets his hour upon the stage, and then
is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
signifying nothing.