Go walking after dark some night,
When the blackened clouds shroud the moon's glow,
And travel Death's footpath, treading light,
Where evil winds through wicked branches, blow.
Allow the silver mist to hide the cold ground.
Peering into cryptic chasms, calling to the phantasms;
Your blood rushing in your head's the only sound-
You hear-Then we appear.
Don't try to run-You'll only spoil all our fun,
So stay-Don't try to run away.
So do follow what we say and
Tread lightly, for we are just below.
Silence seems to burn your brain.
Don't let go, or go insane.
Don't let white-knuckled terror show.
Empty-headedness-You're brain-dead to us all.
Don't try putting out your arms now-They won't break your fall-
Falling into the chasms-Of demented phantasms.
There's no one here to answer your call.
Allow the silver mist to hide the cold ground.
Know there's not another living soul around.
Peering into the cryptic chasms, calling to the phantasms.
Your blood rushing in your ear's the only sound-
You freeze-You can try to appease-But don't leave,
It's not something you'll achieve.
Your goal-Is to hand us your soul,
And your mind-You'll no longer control.
So tread lightly for we are just below.
Silence seems to burn your brain.
Don't let go or go insane.
Don't let white-knuckled terror show.
