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He came up to the window
In the mist
As I've seen him often before
But he was solid and not a ghost
And his eyes were fierce
Like a man's when angry
He was laughing
When he turned to look back over the belt of trees
Glinting in the moonlight
Toward where the dogs were barking
Then, he began promising me things
Not in words, but by doing 'em
Have you seen an awful din of hellish infamy?
With the very moonlight alive with grisly shapes
And every speck of dust and words in the wind
A devoted monster in embryo
Listen to them
The children of the night
What music they make?
