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.