The black dog runs at night, the black dog runs at night,
Its owner is a silhouette, his eyes are not quite right.
The dog itself cannot exist, yet it is clearly there,
Its bite is worse than any bark, a red room is its lair.
All innocence is eaten up, all fear and pain devoured,
Girl after girl is murdered there, is ended and deflowered.
In dreams the owls are hunting YOU, YOUR name you hear them sing,
You’ve gone too far to turn back now, B U T D O N O T T A K E T H E R I N G . . .
– © MB 2010