They call it a terror, looming and black
and once it has caught you, there’s no going back.
The shadow of evil can sit on your chest
reach through your eyes to take the heart from your breast.
They say it’s a nightmare, they say it’s not real
they say that the mind makes up the things that you feel,
they say that the scream that comes out as a yawn
is nothing as these things are driven away at dawn.
But I’ve traveled circles in the dark, in the deep,
I’ve piloted the tides round those deadly Capes of Sleep.
I’ve stolen from the Sandman, and skipped in the dark,
I’ve listened to the ravens song and seen the devils mark.
And I tell you, from the depths plunged, have I come
to once again indulge in the glorious, rising sun—
and though it drives the fiends away
with each blinding, brilliant ray,
it, too, is caught at the end of the day
and drug down, beyond the horizon, to fade.
And those hands reach out from the blackness
with the cunning of lost friends,
they reach out just to grab us
and say “this is how the world ends.”
These terrors of the nighttime, captured up in dreams,
well, that which is imagined can be all that it seems.