The Spectre of T. D. Yem...

wallowing in the bedchamber, a hovering shroud,
following the crowd that follows the crowd,

some take flight, screaming off under the cover of night
fighting it off with a fight

immortality, as He lurks behind the curtain of time
voraciously preying on victims at work in the assembly line

exercise intoxicating spirits or the smoke of flame
amour plating to forget His initials, to cloak His name

you can never vanquish the beast the same way in the same fashion
this languish entity loves repetition without compassion

the cure can also be the cause
waiting within and waiting without the walls

sighs and silent prayers, a detector to Him
you can’t hide from the nightmare spectre of T. D. Yem...