---

The Monster comes
in the still of the night
like mist across the alleys

Its spider legs
are tapping on the ground
Its jaws are slowly moving
with no sound

Gliding in the darkness,
worse than any fear
through silent stairs
and empty streets
the monster's drawing near...

And any time
you dream about the war
the crimson eyes shine brighter

And when you shout
until your throat gets sore
and fill your voice with hatred
it wants more

Waiting in the darkness,
feeding on your dread
the monster spins
its subtle web:
the Monster's in our head.

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