He came up to the window In the mist As I've seen him often before But he was solid and not a ghost And his eyes were fierce Like a man's when angry
He was laughing When he turned to look back over the belt of trees Glinting in the moonlight Toward where the dogs were barking Then, he began promising me things Not in words, but by doing 'em
Have you seen an awful din of hellish infamy? With the very moonlight alive with grisly shapes And every speck of dust and words in the wind A devoted monster in embryo
Listen to them The children of the night What music they make?
