Where Dead Things Creep

I see you out there (mortals)
Even in my deepest sleep.
I can smell your fear (mortals)
On the path where dead things creep.

Under the crescent moon,
Between the swaying trees,
The watcher awaits,
Patient,
Hungry.
Part of the deepened gloom,
Within the blowing breeze,
The watcher awaits,
Tortured,
Angry.

He comes alive at first Autumn night
In innocent blood and pagan rites.
A darkened shroud and Jack's burning eyes,
Black cats screech at the twisting vines.
The cemetery man with a jagged lantern
White haired and his clothing tattered,
Sees the deathcraft spring to life,
Given birth by the witchcraft light.

Little children hide under death masks
To safeguard themselves from his tasks.
Set out the Jack-O-Lanterns for him
To blind the lord to your human sins.
Take heed to the chanting of the town witches,
Or find yourself in the ditches.
Candies abound in the night
Easing growls to Autumn sighs.

He comes to your door,
For a trick or treat,
The watcher awaits,
Patient,
Hungry.
A thing of old lore,
Is here for the meat,
The watcher awaits,
Tortured,
Angry.

I see you out there (mortals)
Even in my deepest sleep.
I can smell your fear (mortals)
On the path where dead things creep.