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for the contest |
| I am a man who walks alone And when I'm walking a dark road At night or strolling through the park When the light begins to change I sometimes feel a little strange A little anxious when it's dark. -Fear of the Dark-Iron Maiden At a quarter past midnight as the obsidian black entombs me, the clock is creeping slowly toward the witching hour. I wonder what else could be creaping, at a quarter past midnight as I gulp in fear and try to burrow deeper beneath my comforter. Ghostly forms wait in the moonlight, how they caper, leap, and lunge at a quarter past midnight. They dance upon my bedroom floor. I may be too old for this fear, but the dark is a bit much. I wish I had left the light on, at a quarter past midnight. I am a man who walks alone And when I'm walking a dark road At night or strolling through the park When the light begins to change I sometimes feel a little strange A little anxious when it's dark. -Fear of the Dark-Iron Maiden |