Dreary as I am,
dreary as it is,
weary is my head.
Fatigue fills my design.
...
You creep into my head.
You even dare to use my eyes as your door.
I feel you enter.
I sense you passing the threshold which is mine.
...
Dreary As I Am
Dreary as I am,
dreary as it is,
weary is my head.
Fatigue fills my design.
Yet I find solace in my chambers.
My chambers that are dark,
my chambers that seem cruel.
The night creature's den.
The living zombie's tomb.
I find solace in my rooms.
Celebrate in your streets.
Deplete your bottles 'till you drown.
Fill your memory with nets of white.
But I'm not coming around.
I will seek comfort in my chambers.
Not to be found.