The long narrow streets wind through the night
Around every corner there is a fresh fright
Dancing shadows following me from behind
As waltzing fears make their way through my mind
On a metal fence a crow caws out my name
I dash away before my soul it can claim
I listen to the sounds of quiet screaming in my ears
I run for my home where loneliness always leers
I lock the doors and windows before I hop in bed
I cover myself over with quilt and dread
I hear the drops of cold crimson liquid hitting the floor
As I jump on a nightmare to ride away once more
Brian lives in the attic of my house
He is usually quiet like a church’s mouse
At night I can hear the pitter-patter of his feet
As he goes into the night to find himself a treat
He likes to pull tricks on the unsuspecting
As he goes merrily along his trip of collecting
When I hear Brian return from his nightly jaunt
I can hear down the hall as he whispers his taunt
I hide in my bed peeking out from under my quilt
The door to my bedroom slowly opens with a lilt
I see him standing with drops oozing down his lips
As his eyes are covered by a fleshly eclipse
Brian grins the grin of a devilish imp under steroids sway
Then Brian returns to my attic to hibernate for the day