follow me to the wood through the dew fields and the bog i ll show you what i saw last november as autumn s curtain closed something opened something old no one seems to believe in the stories that i tell so i keep them to myself but you see shadows too my friend my friend something is watching us from behind an eye that cannot close until the morning blinds and burns we are hers we are hers in an evening gown of gray bloom rose the witch the bitch the wicked worm with one cold kiss from her black lips we froze we froze something is watching us from behind an eye that cannot close until the morning blinds and burns we are hers we are hers