He was little known until he died
'Cuz the real demons were behind his eyes
And his tortured mind could never thought
Of the extent his mental health had wrought
A dozen shitty movies only two I saw
At least one song by Metallica
Aleister Crowley even believed that crap
You fucked my mind H. P. Lovecraft
You started writing for Wierd Tales
All you wanted was sex you got strait hell
I stole my first from Waldenbooks at the mall
And then I heard Cthulhu's Call
Other writer jumped on your boat
Even you weren't scared of what you wrote
You told of monters lurking in the mist
'Cause you daddy died of syphilis

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