Some old press clippings,
my uncle's notes,
a bas-relief made of clay.
The horrors that these convey have given me much dismay.
I think I'm starting to go insane.
Strange nightmare images haunt my brain.
I'm dreaming of a dead city
Where Deep Ones swim in depths of night.
Where Cthulhu's sleeping while stars go creeping
Until the time when they are right.
I'm dreaming of a dead city
With angles Euclid wouldn't know,
That was built strange eons ago,
and will soon come up from down below.
I'm dreaming of a dead city
Where Deep Ones swim in depths of night.
Where Cthulhu's sleeping while stars go creeping
Until the time when they are right.
I'm dreaming of a dark future
Ruled by that Three-Lobed Burning Eye;
When the Old Ones' coming is nigh,
and you find that death itself may die.