Drawn deep from the pits of hell

Is the watcher behind the half veil

Blown in the night air like a curtain

Never knowing his prey for certain

Older than house he haunts

More wicked than those he taunts

The watcher waits for weakened moment

To turn again his hosts and torment

Rattling chains into the dark night

While frightened children wait for light

There’s nothing so frightful than imagination

That’s become unhinged by horror’s saturation

With a turn of a switch, on comes the light

No more beasties hiding in the corners of the night