I count ten in the dusk sun
on the wet grass
facing the woods
And I can't find
Where you have gone
And a cold trail
Is a sign where you've run
and I said, Ready or not, here I come.
Ready or not, here I come
Trippin' on my laces
I am afraid that I've lost my place
at the end of the neighborhood
edge of the world
This was a mistake
With night clear upon us
I am shone fear
In the autumn of my seventh year
An alarming lapse of sound
I see my breath
just like in the stories
Don't want you to turn around
I don't wanna bask in your ghastly glory anymore