| Hung be the sky
|
| With black
|
| Yield day to night
|
| May the
|
| Presage
|
| Come alive
|
| With pure rage
|
| Out of the grim nothingness,
|
| Out of the dismal woods and noxious mists
|
| Into an assemblage of warmth,
|
| Into your house, your room, your wrists
|
| Know, however many doors you
|
| Lock I’ll batter down them all
|
| And whatever forces you summon
|
| They can’t save your soul
|
| II
|
| Oftentimes it seems to you
|
| Something silently lurks there beyond the light
|
| Well, it’s me — I had been forced
|
| To hide myself… until this night
|
| Separating from the air’s
|
| cold materiality,
|
| I become a part of your world and
|
| make you a part of my reality
|
| Know, however many candles you light
|
| I’ll blow out them all
|
| And whatever forces you summon
|
| They can’t save your soul
|
| III
|
| In flesh I’m standing next to you
|
| — a termination of the faith, an end of the creed
|
| This dark shall bring you what you need
|
| Hexifaction guaranteed
|
| When concentration of the fear
|
| Gets overwhelming you’ll make a desperate dart
|
| For windows, doors
|
| To save yourself
|
| It’s all in vain —
|
| You won’t get out
|
| Alive
|
| Before chasing a witch
|
| Check your place in the food chain
|
| As light ruthlessly grows dim
|
| my eyes start to glow bright green
|
| In your rueful life this will be
|
| the last source of light you see |