My door opened, and then my door closed, what it let in, I do not know. I do know that of late my house has grown cold, my water runs red and my clocks do not toll. I fear that very soon, my own head will roll.
I hear it at night, that thing that came in, moaning its mourning and terrible dread. I hear it skitter, I hear it clack, though the sound I fear is, is a snicker snack. I know that of late my house has grown cold, my water runs red, and my clocks do not toll. I fear that, very soon, my own head shall roll.
I follow it now, with a lantern at night, the sounds and sights keep me up with fright. My hair is graying as I age a pace, there is nothing to be done, but to accept my fate. If you should hear your door open and close, then you notice your house has grown cold. If your water begins to run red and the clocks do not toll it’s best to run before all too soon, it’s your head that does roll.
You can not bargain, you can not hide, I do not know about fleeing, you can always try. If the air grows cold and your watch does not tick, and you hear a skitter from some dark nitch. Flee and scurry as fast as you can, for the thing that comes has a terrible itch. It itches for blood from some fresh vein, and I fear that my warning efforts may be in vain.
I hear it now, at my door, my clocks now toll, but after this I’ll hear them no more, you see its a bout time for me to go, it tells me now that my head must roll. I heard the skitter, but now that dreadful sound has taken it’s place now I see it flicker in the dim light of this place. All sound but the bells, how they toll for me, that dreadful snicker snack, it’s taken my life you see. Be warned, be wary but above all be quick, for when that door opens , you must close it, you see, that’s the trick.