The rag man hooded in his cloak
He roams the sand holding his clock
And when he sees the hopping rabbit
He says to him fear the time limit
For all those things will fade
Dark times are ahead

Bears, they have multiplied
Though they are numerous they hide
They believe themselves wide
But in the end, they'll drown in their pride
Some want you to feel their blade
Dark times are ahead

All the sheep lords they ride
Running away from the rising tide
They seek deep in their glade
Wondering: "is it how it was made?"
And some want you to believe they paid
But dark times are ahead...