Time to go it's late, as the fog begins to lay

And you wish that you were at home in bed

Visions of evil and visions ill will

Are burning corners into your head

The echo of your steps

From the fence across the field

They're coming from close behind

The air drops to ten degrees, cob webs in the trees

Your door step seem so very far away

When dripping shadows start to move, when your doubts begin to prove,

(tame day scenes get all construed) you feel terror in the streets

Sweaty palms you feel the night as your body fills with fright

You feel alright when you see the light at your house

But that feeling turns to panic and fright as you watch the lights go out.