It may be my imagination
And of course I'm prone to exaggeration
But in the moth eaten gloom of my shabby room
I saw the strangest manifestation
One possible explanation is that
It was merely a trick of the light
But that's little consolation
'Cause it's gotten so that I can't sleep at night!
What presence?!
Stepping out 'neath a harvest moon
Stepping out to the strains
O this self-same tune
And it's screaming in my ears