Some old press clippings, my uncle's notes, a bas-relief made out 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 they are right.
I'm dreaming of a dead city
With angles Euclid wouldn't know,
That was build 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 they are right.
I'm dreaming of a dark future
Ruled by the Three-Lobed Burning Eye;
When the Old Ones' coming in night, and you find that even death itself may die.
